


All Your Base Are Belong to Her

by DreamSmithAJK



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bratty Dawn, Crossover, Dawn Powerup, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 113,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamSmithAJK/pseuds/DreamSmithAJK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn has fallen between universes, and landed in a world not quite her own. Hunted by both SG:1 and the NID, she finds herself linked to what the people here call a 'StarGate', and unlocks new powers that might be the Key to her survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unlocking a Different Kind of Door

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I tend to think that if the story 'verse differs to any great degree from what was shown on the show(s), then that should be described and explained in-story, instead of in an author's note. I will be doing my best to do that, but I can also see why people would like to know at least the broad strokes of the thing ahead of time, so okay:
> 
> Set two years after 'The Gift', but it's a different two years, with Buffy staying dead and things moving on from there. It's early days for the Stargate program; shortly after the start of Season Two. Daniel Jackson's wife, Sha're, did not survive her kidnapping by the Goa'uld, and has been dead for nearly a year. Otherwise, everything is pretty much as you know it.
> 
> Also, if the title confuses you, just google 'All your base are belong to us' and you'll find the story of the meme.
> 
> Super-Special thanks to my prereader Diana, who caught several embarrassing mistakes I'd made, and also gave a suggestion that will, a few chapters down the line, create some very interesting situations. Her help made this a better story than it would have been otherwise.
> 
> Now has it's own page at tvTropes. Feel free to edit and/or add to the page there; I want to see what you find worthy of note in the story.

The space between universes was green, and forever, and Dawn was falling through it with no idea what to do.  
  
 _"You're done with this, Dawn. You're shaming her memory and you're hurting all of us, and you are DONE."  
  
Willow looked so fierce as she said that, so much so that Dawn found herself shivering even before the magic slammed into her. The screams that followed were as much from fear as pain--the binding spells weren't designed to hurt her, but they were digging into the very core of what she was, the place where ordinary humans kept their souls, the place where Dawn kept a glimmering orb of emerald light older than the universe.  
  
"Stop it!" she gasped, too breathless from shock to manage anything louder, even as she folded slowly to her knees. Willow just shook her head, eyes black and pitiless as night, snakelike tendrils of crackling magick pouring from her outstretched hands and slithering into Dawn as they gnawed closer and closer to her center.  
  
Tara knelt beside Dawn, her face pained as she hesitantly extended a hand, only to pull it back at a word from Willow.  
  
"It'll be okay, Dawnie," she whispered. "It'll only hurt for a minute, and then everything will be okay. You just...." She swallowed, and glanced away, unable to meet the girl's eyes. "You just won't have any Key magick, anymore, is all."  
  
Pale with shock, racked by shudders that were threatening to turn into full-scale convulsions, Dawn stared at the mousy blonde with something very close to hate.  
  
"I AM Key magick!" It was hard to breathe, hard to think, and only the violent twitching of her muscles under Willow's assault kept her from swinging a fist at Tara's oh-so-sympathetic face. "You can’t... can’t take it away... from me...."  
  
The young woman winced at the words, turning even further away. The crackling bolts of magick clawing at her core surged, drawing a strangled gasp from Dawn.  
  
"We absolutely can," Willow stated coldly. "Buffy died for you, and we've tried to be patient, because she would have wanted that, but enough is enough." She crossed her wrists, and the magick coiled into a spiral, twisting itself into her even more painfully than before, drawing tears from Dawn's eyes. She could feel the woman's spells tightening inside her, weaving themselves into knotted barriers that would seal away nearly all of what she was, forever.   
  
Dawn couldn't allow that; she WOULDN'T allow that. She was the Key, and she would rather die than be left an empty shell of herself.  
  
Besides, Willow was trying to lock her magick away, and everyone knew that the thing Dawn was best at was opening locks; both the normal sort and also the ones that were less than physical. Her body slumped forward to sprawl, quivering and helpless on the ground even as the green force that was her true self raged and fought against the tightening bonds.  
  
Willow glared, her lips compressing into a grim line, and Tara reeled, half falling. Dawn fought harder, momentarily cheered by the knowledge that the red-haired witch had been forced to suck energy from her lover to reinforce her attack. The Key, of course, was too old and primal a force for even Willow to drain, or else the struggle would have been over before it began.  
  
"No more stealing, Dawn," Willow said, her voice clear and cold. "No more jewelry stores, no more penthouse safes, no more ANY of it." Her face went expressionless, and the empty black pits of her eyes were far more frightening than a certain crazed hellgoddess had ever dreamed of being.   
  
"N-no... no, no, Noooooo!"   
  
Dawn was losing. As ancient and strong as the Key was, it wasn't a weapon.  
  
It wasn't Willow Rosenberg.  
  
She felt herself being pushed, pushed from every direction, crammed into a smaller and smaller space inside herself, and she knew it was over. Any second now, the barriers would lock into place, and everything about her that mattered would be sealed out of reach, forever. Dawn struggled, and fought, but there was no way out, no way through the witch's magick....  
  
Until, suddenly, as she strained in pure, blind desperation, something, somewhere within her, gave way. Not the barriers Willow was building around her; those were still forming, and they were terrifyingly strong. No, this barrier was inside her, a part of her, and it gave way under the stress of her struggles, with the sickening abruptness of a breaking limb.   
  
In the blink of an eye it all went away--Willow's awful, masklike face, Tara's sudden cry of dismay, even the icy pain wracking her own body. It all vanished as she felt herself swept elsewhere._  
  
  
  
The memories of a minute ago, or an hour ago, or an eternity ago; they faded into the background, and Dawn wondered what would happen now. The space between universes was green, and forever, and she was falling through it with no idea what to do.  
  
Except... something was different.  
  
Far, far below her (if there had actually  _been_  any such thing as 'below' in this place--she might just as well have called it 'inside up' or 'sidewards through'), there was something new. A line, stretching between two almost invisibly-tiny motes... and more lines joining each of those to several others, and a multitude of lines joining every one of  _those_. The shimmering web stretched out, into infinity, vast and intricate beyond comprehension, and Dawn was falling towards it (or rising to meet it, or emerging from within it--all of those were equally accurate).  
  
The lines gleamed as she neared, without ever showing a hint of color in themselves, but they reflected her own light perfectly, gradually shining brighter and brighter with pure emerald as she came closer, like razor-thin strands of mirror.  
  
One of the pinpoints was suddenly more prominent than the rest as she fell (or rose, or emerged), and she knew without knowing _how_  she knew that she would land there. There was a rightness to that particular dot, almost an inevitability, and she did her best to brace herself for whatever was about to happen.  
  
She was pleasantly surprised when the actual impact/transition/arrival was no more traumatic than stepping through a doorway.  
  
Or, to be more accurate, a giant, metallic, ring-shaped... thingy.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
When he went looking for Daniel, Jack knew exactly where to try first; where the archeologist had been spending far too much time lately--The Junk Room.  
  
Sure, the technical term for it was ‘ExoPlanetary Artifacts Repository’, a series of rooms where they kept items from offworld that didn’t qualify for transfer to Area 51 for study, though still too sensitive to be allowed off-base. Jack, upon hearing the name for the first time, had immediately pointed out that they should be careful about sticking foreign objects in their E.A.R., but no matter how hard he pushed for it, no one else was up for using the obvious name. ‘Junk Room’ was an acceptable compromise, though still hadn’t given up. Setting those thoughts aside for now, he swiped his access card and waited.   
  
When the reinforced door slid aside, he leaned in and looked around. Sure enough, Daniel was there, sitting at one of the tables and scribbling in a notebook as he traced a line of glyphs inscribed on a pale yellow slab of amber. The perimeter of the room was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, and there were five other tables there besides the one where Daniel was sitting. All of them, the shelves and tables both, were filled to overflowing with objects they’d brought back through the gate. There were tribal masks, swords and spears and bows that ranged from crudely fashioned to exquisitely crafted, items of art, unidentified fossils from creatures that had never trod planet Earth, and many, many more items. It was a treasure trove that scientists from half a dozen different disciplines would have killed to examine... and yet it was, essentially, a useless afterthought. The Stargate program was, after all, tasked with the defense of Earth, and the acquisition of advanced technology to be used toward that end. Everything else, no matter how intriguing it might have been in other circumstances, was of little concern.  
  
Senator Kinsey had made that abundantly clear to them all, during his visit to the SGC, some six weeks ago. Jack made a silent grimace of disgust at the mere thought of the man. They had managed to silence his criticisms for the moment, by basically managing a last-minute save of the entire world with their sabotage of two giant Goa'uld motherships, but that didn’t change the basic equation: even though their operating budget was renewed, it most emphatically did not include funds for anything other than military operations.   
  
None of that had anything to do with his mission of the moment, however. Oh, no, there were  _far_  more important things to deal with now.  
  
“Daniel,” he said from his place in the doorway. “Hey, Daniel?”  
  
The younger man didn’t look up, but he did bob his head slightly in acknowledgement.   
  
“Jack,” he said absently, still scribbling.  
  
Silence then, which stretched and grew as silences do, until Jack sighed and walked fully into the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he moved to where the other sat.  
  
“Daniel. Are you perhaps aware of the time?”  
  
Scribblescribblescribble. Then:  
  
“Hm?”  
  
Jack helpfully stuck his arm in between Daniel’s face and the notebook, pointing at the watch on his wrist with his other forefinger.  
  
“See this? It says ‘02:00 hours’. Which is military-speak for two in the morning.”  
  
Sitting back in his chair, Daniel blinked owlishly at him, wincing slightly as he became aware of the stiffness in his neck and back.  
  
“Oh. Um, well, I got sort of caught up in these tablets we brought back from P8X-987. Here, let me show you the translation I‘ve been working on.” He set aside the rectangular amber slab he‘d been examining, and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. Jack reached out and gave the tablet a light poke with his finger--the material was some sort of tough resin; soft enough to write on with the proper tools, lighter than stone or clay, and far more durable than paper.  
  
“Feels kind of waxy,” he noted.  
  
“Uh huh.”   
  
Looking at the shelves, Jack noted that there were several hundred of the tablets there.  
  
“You brought back quite a few of these things.”  
  
“Yes,” Daniel allowed absently, scanning a page of densely-written notes before flipping to the next one, and then the next.  
  
“One might even say there’s a  _buildup_  of them,” Jack continued, watching the other hopefully. “Of the waxy things. In here. A  _wax buildup_  in our Exoplanetary Artifacts Repository--”  
  
“Let it go, Jack,” Daniel said, not bothering to look up. The Colonel frowned in disappointment, and sourly looked at the notebook being held up for his inspection.  
  
“This is the relevant section, right here, see?”  
  
Jack sighed, dropped into a chair, skimmed the paragraph, then glanced up.  
  
“The flu? I’m thinking the people on 987 had a lot worse than that to worry about, since Nirrti wiped out every last one of them, except for Cassandra, with something a lot nastier.”  
  
Daniel nodded impatiently, taking the notes back and indicating another section, further down the page.  
  
“Yes, yes, but this is referring to an event that took place nearly a hundred years before we ever visited their planet. You see, Nirrti had visited there before, and because she’s a ‘god’, she didn’t bother to hide what she was doing.”  
  
At his expectant look, Jack took a wild guess.  
  
“Causing the flu?”  
  
“Yes! This Goa'uld is an expert in Bio-Engineering, and she does not believe in testing her work on animals.” Daniel paused then, and grimaced slightly. “Or, I suppose she does believe in it, and considers humans to be just another  _kind_  of animal.”  
  
Jack went back to idly poking one of the waxy slabs littering the table; forlorn artifacts of a dead civilization.  
  
“Not to be insensitive, Daniel, but this matters to us... why? Those people are gone. There’s nothing more the Goa'uld can do to them.”  
  
“No, not them, but maybe us.” The archeologist leaned back in his chair and regarded the Colonel levelly. “Jack, the symptoms of that flu are similar to a strain that struck Earth in 1918. In fact, the symptoms and profile are effectively identical.”  
  
O’Neill sat up straight, suddenly not bored at all.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Yes. And the timeframe fits too. Assuming typical supralight speeds, a journey by ship between our two star systems works out to almost exactly the span between this recorded outbreak and the worldwide pandemic that struck Earth in 1918.  
  
Even Jack’s usual unflappable calm was a bit jolted by  _that_.  
  
“The Goa'uld dropped a biological weapon on us, and nobody ever  _knew?_  But she didn’t do anything else; didn’t bombard any cities, or land any troops.”  
  
Daniel shrugged.  
  
“That outbreak killed something like three percent of the human population, but that still left nearly two billion people. Actually conquering the planet would be an enormous undertaking.”  
  
Jack nodded slowly, seeing the implications of the timing.  
  
“That was a busy decade or two. The first practical cars, the first aircraft, machine-guns, tanks.”  
  
“Widespread industrial development,” Daniel continued for him. “Plus rapid advances in the sciences: chemistry, physics, medicine and metallurgy--even the beginnings of rocketry.”  
  
The Colonel scowled, his fingers tingling with the need to grasp a weapon, though the target he wanted was light-years distant, and the crime was a century past.  
  
“She wanted to knock us back, slow us down.”  
  
Daniel began to slowly stack the amber tablets into a single pile.  
  
“The Goa'uld try to keep human societies in cultural stasis; they suppress technology so that we’re easier to control.”  
  
“But it didn’t work,” Jack protested, almost angrily. “Why bother to do such a half-assed job of it, and never bother to follow up with something bigger?”  
  
“We’re lucky she  _didn’t_ , Jack. If Earth had been hit with what she developed later, and used on the population of 987, then the death toll might have been total.”  
  
Jack looked at the stack of tablets, standing there like a forlorn funeral monument, and shook his head.  
  
“So... the reason we got off with  _only_  fifty million dead--”  
  
“Closer to seventy-five, actually.”  
  
“--Is because that version of the flu is what Nirrti  _happened to have with her?_ ”  
  
Daniel nodded, flipping his notebook closed and fiddling with his pen.  
  
“I think so, yes. She must have been in transit, on her way from where she’d tested the virus on 987. Earth’s Stargate was buried, but since she was passing by in her ship, she paused to check in, saw that we were advancing at a dangerous rate, and hit us with the sample she happened to have on board. I suppose to her way of thinking, even a small setback for our civilization was better than nothing at all.” His lips twisted slightly in distaste. “And... she probably welcomed the chance to test it on another human population; the more data points the better.”  
  
Even though O’Neill’s iron stomach was legendary in the service, he was feeling a little sick just thinking about how close a call it had been. And how vulnerable Earth still was to such an attack.  
  
“Screw laser guns and all of that; we need to bring back some advanced medical tech. Soon.”  
  
“Agreed. I know Doctor Frasier is working on a cure for what was used on 987, but we’ll need some sort of wide-spectrum immunization that we can make in bulk, to use here, and give to any human populations we find who are actively opposing the Goa'uld. Otherwise they could be decimated almost before they even realize what’s happening.”  
  
That was an excellent idea, and Jack resolved to bring it up at the next planning session with General Hammond. In the meantime, there was something he could take care of immediately.  
  
“Nice work. And, more importantly,  _enough_  work. It’s time for a break.”  
  
He pulled Daniel up and out of his chair before the younger man could do more than blink, and with a firm hand on his shoulder he guided him towards the door.  
  
“Wh-what? Break?”  
  
Jack nodded sagely, effortlessly redirecting him back towards the door when he tried to turn back to his work.  
  
“Yes, a break. At this very moment, a junior Airman is on his way into the Mountain with a stack of extra-large pizzas from Gianelli’s. If we hurry, we should be able to make it to the cafeteria before he gets there, otherwise SG-3 is sure to grab every last slice.”   
  
That was a combat-oriented team comprised entirely of Marines, and he had no doubts at all concerning their ability to stage a swift, bloodless and entirely effective retrieval op against one hapless Airman.  
  
Daniel, too, was familiar with that team’s capabilities, and he ceased his vague struggles and came along willingly.  
  
“I’m all for pizza, and Gianelli’s is great, but--Jack, that’s a forty minute drive from here. And it takes a good ten or fifteen minutes to get through the security checkpoints and all the way down to the sublevels. Aren’t they going to be pretty much stone cold by the time they get here?”  
  
Jack smiled as they exited the E.A.R., habit making him pause and look back long enough to ensure that the security door had closed itself behind them before continuing on.  
  
“That’s the beauty of it. There are four security checkpoints those pizzas will have to go through to get down here. I figure that many x-ray scans will be as good as throwing them into a microwave.”  
  
Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he considered that.  
  
“I don’t think it actually works that way....”  
  
“You’ll see. Now come on, we have to swing by and get Carter out of her lab on the way.” They reached a lift, and he pushed the down button. “I swear, going by how hard it is to get you super-brain types out of this place, you‘d think you don‘t have homes.”  
  
“No, my apartment does in fact exist, and I like it a lot, it‘s just that they won‘t let me take my work home with me.”  
  
O’Neill cocked his head and regarded him curiously.  
  
“Oh? You mean the yellow slabs things back there?”  
  
“Among other things, yes. I mean, it’s not like they’re dangerous technology, they’re just cultural artifacts. Totally harmless, unless you’re worried about overturning every major anthropological theory overnight.” His sigh was equal parts frustration and resignation, and when the lift arrived, they both stepped inside.  
  
“So all of that stuff is stuck on-base?”  
  
Daniel nodded.  
  
“For now. I keep trying to make them see--”  
  
“Stuck here,” O’Neill said, unable to keep from giving it another go. “Lodged, one might say. Foreign objects, lodged firmly in our E.A.R.--”  
  
He trailed off at the baleful look he received from the other man, and the elevator doors slid closed.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“--Not a violation of some military code or something, ordering an Airman to go get us pizza?” Daniel was saying as he and Colonel O’Neill walked into Samantha’s lab. The older man shook his head.  
  
“Nope. It would be, if I’d  _ordered_  him to go get them, sure, but this was me asking for a favor from someone who was off-duty at the time. There would have been zero negative consequences if he’d said no, and I made sure he knew that. However, since he said ‘yes’, there will be positive consequences in the form of me putting him in touch with someone who can help him find parts for that sweet ‘68 Mustang he’s working on.”  
  
The two of them made their way to where she was standing. O’Neill glanced at the array of electronics she had painstakingly assembled there, then raised his eyes to meet hers.  
  
“Captain.”  
  
She nodded back at him, blinking tiredly.  
  
“Good morning, sir. Daniel.”   
  
The archaeologist smiled at her, as always looking absurdly young for someone with three doctorates and an impressive number of academic publications.  
  
“Hey, Sam,” he said. “Jack’s got some pizzas on the way, and he insists we come along and help eat them.”  
  
“Yes,” O’Neill told her firmly. “I do insist. There is nothing happening at the moment that can’t wait.” He must have seen something in her expression, because he paused then, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “There’s nothing happening at the moment, right Captain? Or is there something?”  
  
“I’m not quite sure, sir.” She gestured to the largest of several screens that were displaying her data. “This is real-time telemetry from the Stargate. I’ve been assisting the team that’s developing the next update for the operating system we use in place of a Dial Home Device. As you know, we’ve improved a lot from were we were a year ago, in terms of matching the level of performance of an actual DHD.”  
  
O’Neill nodded in agreement.  
  
“Yes, most definitely  _not_  a fan of the old ‘launched from a catapult’ effect we were dealing with for a while there.”  
  
“Well, there’s still a lot of room for improvement, especially in terms of power management for wormhole connections at longer ranges, so I set up a datalink between the Gate room and the lab so I could track energy levels during Gate operations.” At his blank look she elaborated. “So I can establish a baseline on power use, plotted against distance and duration. We know the technology involved is extremely tolerant of variations in the energy supply, but there does seem to be a correlation between how ‘clean’ the power is and the energy-to-mass costs involved in transporting objects through to the other side.”  
  
Daniel was waiting patiently for her to get to the point, O’Neill a little less so.  
  
“...And?”  
  
She touched a button, and one of the graphical displays grew to fill the screen.  
  
“And... there’s something happening.” Her finger traced the relevant line on the graph, which went from a barely perceptible blip at the earliest timestamp to a shallow but steepening curve upwards in the more recent ones. “This started about twenty minutes ago. A power surge, very subtle, and not like anything I’ve ever seen in the Gate before.”  
  
O’Neill’s gaze sharpened.  
  
“Somebody dialing in?” That wasn’t a huge cause for concern, given that the control room was manned even when operations were suspended overnight, and it required only moments to close the iris and render the Gate impassable.  
  
“I don’t think so, sir. There  _is_  a surge, but it’s not even showing on the normal status displays. An analogy would be that we’re looking at something with enormous voltage but virtually no amperage. I’m not even sure something like this can wake the Gate out of idle mode.”  
  
He regarded her steadily, considering.  
  
“But it’s still increasing?”  
  
She keyed in a command on her console, and watched as the telemetry link updated the graph.  
  
“Yes sir, it is. And the rate of increase is accelerating also; not quite exponentially, but not far from it.”  
  
That was, at the very least, cause for concern, even taking into account the oddly passive nature of the energy itself. The Colonel obviously agreed, leaning in to key a sequence of his own into her terminal. She recognized it as a code that triggered an alert that was audible everywhere in the base  _except_  the Gate Room itself, and as the klaxon began sounding she shot him a questioning look. He shrugged even as he gestured for the two of them to follow him.  
  
“Looks like something’s trying to sneak in. I’d rather not scare it off before we see what it is.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Second Lieutenant Dave Siefring had mixed feelings about his current assignment. Not the Stargate program itself;  _that_  was amazing beyond words, and he was acutely aware of how lucky he was to be a part of it. No, what bothered him, albeit in a very minor way, was the fact that he was standing watch in the middle of the night, when Gate operations were suspended. Other than himself, and two Airmen providing security, this entire section of the underground complex was deserted, and would be for another four hours.  
  
It seemed likely that someday soon offworld operations would grow to the point where the control room would be fully staffed round the clock, but that day was still in the future. For now, all he had to keep him company were the telemetry readouts for the Gate, all of which displayed a mind-numbing lack of activity, and the two silent Airmen, who displayed an equally mind-numbing lack of activity.  
  
The Lieutenant yawned, and with a dogged determination checked the visual feeds from the Gate room itself. Everything looked quiet; the room lighting dimmed to minimal levels, and the metallic ring sitting in Idle mode, patiently awaiting the next command from the humans who had finally mastered its secrets.  
  
Satisfied that all was well, Siefring returned to the textbook that lay open on the console before him. He was studying for his single-engine pilot’s certification, a goal that had become even more attractive thanks to certain rumors that had recently reached his ears. Word was, a series of rugged light aircraft were on the drawing board, specifically intended to be easily disassembled and reassembled, to facilitate transporting them through the Stargate. Lieutenant Siefring had always wanted to fly--that was why he’d chosen the Air Force in the first place. Now, though, he had the chance to, just maybe, be one of the first men to fly in the skies of alien worlds. It was even possible, if he was very lucky, that he would be  _the_  first man to do so.  
  
He grinned down at the book as he flipped to the next page, glancing up to check the monitors again before--  
  
The grin faded, replaced by a slow furrowing of his brow. There was something happening with the Gate. In normal lighting it might have been difficult to make it out, but in the dimness the faint aurora surrounding the ring was impossible to miss. It grew in strength as he watched in fascination, the color slowly shifting from a pale, silvery-white to a brilliant emerald hue, as pure and intense as laser light.   
  
His gaze shifted for a moment to the window that looked out on the room, currently showing only the featureless grey of armor plate--given that weapons fire from the other side of a wormhole had impacted that window more than once, it was kept closed unless there was a reason to do otherwise. He found that he was entirely fine with that--whatever that light was, it would be up to the ranking officers to decide how to deal with it. He was reaching for the master alarm button when the screens flared suddenly--a flash of green that came and went in an instant, leaving the Gate room dark once more.  
  
The Lieutenant paused, wondering if the situation had ended before he’d managed to inform his superiors--that wouldn’t look good on his performance review, and he desperately needed a flawless record if he ever hoped to fly beneath alien stars....  
  
The decision of whether or not to push the button was taken from him a moment later as the alarm klaxon began to sound. He hastily closed the textbook and put it aside, well aware that his superiors were on their way. He was so busy worrying about how he would explain his (admittedly very brief) delay in sounding an alert that he missed the movement on the monitor. Unseen by everyone, the white-clad figure of a girl stood at the top of the ramp and peered about in obvious confusion.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
While she was happy enough to be back in the real world, and not that surreal  _between_  place she’d somehow slipped into during her escape from Willow, Dawn was less than impressed with her current surroundings. It was dim, it was chilly, and the air was decidedly stale. The light seemed to be coming from just a few very small sources, and the room itself was a drab, brutally-ugly assemblage of concrete and steel. There was, of course, the huge ring that loomed over her as she stood at the top of the sloping pedestal-like arrangement, but that just made her wonder if she had stumbled into some cult’s secret lair.  
  
 _Looks like they worship some kind of Donut god_ , she mused, looking up at the lavishly inscribed object.  _Oh well, could be worse. Anything’s better than big ol’ snakemonsters and psycho frat-guys getting all... Ooooh!_  
  
There was something else in the room with her, something that filled the space to overflowing, and she’d somehow missed seeing it until her eyes started to tingle, and seemed to shift focus in some odd, sideways fashion. The world changed, as she found the trick of looking at it in the new way. The closest thing she could think of to compare it to was being submerged in the purest, clearest water imaginable. Water so pure that it didn’t blur or obscure her surroundings even a tiny bit--if anything it was all clearer and sharper than before... and also faintly tinged in green.   
  
She regarded the room curiously, trying to decipher just what it was she was seeing.  
  
 _It’s.... It’s like the lines_ , she realized suddenly; the mirror lines she’d seen in the between place. And this, like those, seemed to have no color of its own, just a pureness and clarity that were almost painful. And, also like that infinite web she’d glimpsed, this seemed able, even  _eager_ , somehow, to take on the emerald hue of her own inner self. She carefully raised one hand, experimentally trying to  _push_  it into the same sidewards-through place she was seeing. She was rewarded with a wash of green light trailing after her hand, visible even in the normal spectrum and faintly illuminating the walls nearest her before slowly fading back to crystalline invisibility.   
  
Dawn smiled delightedly, and reached out to caress the air with both hands, enchanted and awed by what she was feeling.  
  
Because it  _was_  awesome. She could sense the power of it; the massive weight and precisely ordered potential of it thrumming all around her. If she imagined it to be water, then it was a truly enormous lake of the stuff, vast and deep and pure, and she could feel it  _waiting_  to do... something. It was clearly artificial; there was structure to it that was constantly forming and reforming, holding itself in a very precise arrangement, ready to be called upon to do whatever it was supposed to do.   
  
However....  
  
 _I think it likes me_ , Dawn mused, watching the green light trail behind her slender fingers.  _Or maybe not ‘likes’, since it doesn’t feel even a little bit alive; maybe more like, it_  fits  _me. And not just in a sorta/kinda, baggy jeans kind of way, nope. This is a pvc and stretch-lace, all over and skin-tight kind of fitting going on, like my very naughtiest clubbing outfit, and it feels really, really nice_.  
  
Her expression dreamy, Dawn wove her hands through some random gestures in a mocking parody of Willow’s spellcasting, admiring the complex swirl of emerald that formed and faded behind them. Looking up at the ring, she cocked her head to the side and spoke aloud for the first time in this place.  
  
“What  _do_  you do, I wonder? And... if I ask very nicely, will you do it for  _me?_ ”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Jack went up the stairs at a half-run, and was the first into the control room, ignoring the faint twinges in his knees with the ease of long practice. Carter and Daniel weren’t far behind, and the Captain immediately began checking readouts on the master console. The young Lieutenant who’d been standing watch leapt from his chair and snapped a somewhat nervous salute, which Jack impatiently waved away.  
  
“Report,” he said crisply.  
  
“Sir, there was a glow around the Gate, followed a few seconds later by a bright flash. All systems remained nominal throughout; there‘s no apparent damage and there was no Gate activation.”  
  
Carter finished her query of the instruments and looked over her shoulder at him.  
  
“Confirmed, sir. The power influx has stopped, and everything looks normal.”  
  
Daniel made a little waving motion with one hand to get their attention, never looking away from the video feed from the Gate room.  
  
“Well, call me crazy, but I don’t think  _that’s_  normal.”  
  
The others followed the direction of his gaze, and Jack uttered an angry exclamation.  
  
“What the  _hell?_ ”  
  
A figure stood within the curved bulk of the Stargate, pale garment showing clearly even in the dimness of the chamber. Strange ripples of green light drifted from it, faint and slow-moving, giving the familiar Gate room a sinister look.  
  
Carter touched a control and the image jumped to a closer view.   
  
“It’s a  _girl_....” Daniel said in a surprised tone, helpfully stating the obvious.  
  
Jack stared at the screen, taking in the details: A girl in her late teens, to all appearances human, with a pale, heart-shaped face and long, long hair in shades of brown. She was undeniably beautiful, which was actually a negative factor in this case, since it increased the likelihood of her being a Goa'uld host. It was his experience that when given a choice the snakes would  _always_  opt for an attractive vessel. With a last glance at the girl, illuminated by the eerie glow of whatever she was doing, her eyes shining and lips parted in an expression of delight, O’Neill turned to regard the Airman. The young man still stood at attention, and he paled at the quiet fury in the Colonel‘s eyes.  
  
“Lieutenant,” he began with deceptive mildness. “Can you explain to me why there is a random, unidentified,  _glowing_  person in our theoretically secure facility?”  
  
“Sir, I--!” He stopped short, swallowed nervously, and started again. “Sir, there was no Gate activation, I swear! And the doors have been sealed since I came on duty at Sixteen-Hundred hours.”  
  
O’Neill’s level stare made it all to clear that he wasn’t buying that, but at that moment General George Hammond entered the room, and the Airman was promptly forgotten.  
  
“Situation?” he said tersely, joining them at the main control station.   
  
“We have an intruder, sir,” Jack said, nodding at the screen. Hammond considered the image for a moment, then turned to Carter.  
  
“Captain?”  
  
“Sir, the logs confirm that there has been no activation of the Gate since SG:7 reported in five hours ago.” She brought up the same display she’d shown Jack earlier, and pointed out the relevant bit for the General. “A short time ago I detected an energy buildup in the Gate itself; very powerful, but not compatible with actually triggering an activation. I informed Colonel O’Neill, and he activated the alarm.”  
  
Their superior nodded, then glanced at Daniel to see if he had anything to contribute. The archeologist gave a small shrug, and looked pointedly at the view screen.  
  
“If this is an invasion, it seems a little underwhelming, doesn’t it? We are talking about just one girl.”  
  
Hammond looked thoughtful at that, but clearly wasn’t convinced.  
  
“If it is just a girl. For all we know, she’s really a Goa'uld. Or perhaps something even worse, that we know nothing about.”  
  
Jack, who’d been watching the girl in question via the monitor, felt his stomach tighten as he was reminded of another, even more harmless-looking girl they’d once brought through the Gate.  
  
“What if she’s Cassandra, Mark-Two, sir?” Everyone looked at him, and he looked back grimly. Paranoia could be a bad thing, but it could also save your life. And, well, they knew for a fact that quite a few people out there really  _did_  want them dead. “If someone wants to destroy this place, they might be trying the same thing as before, with Cassie, only with a bigger bomb. Who’s to say she--” He indicated the girl in the Gate room. “--Doesn’t have a whole belly full of that Naquadah fusion-explosive? Or maybe that green stuff she’s playing with is powering up to turn Colorado into a crater?”  
  
Carter’s suddenly worried expression told him that some or all of those scenarios were at least within the realm of possibility, and Hammond saw it too. Leaning forward to key the microphone, he began issuing orders.  
  
“Response teams one and two to the Gate room, engagement protocol Charlie-Three.”  
  
That protocol specifically prohibited weapons’ fire unless there was absolutely no other option, and Jack approved of the General’s choice. If the girl really was some sort of human bomb, they needed to handle her carefully.  
  
Hammond looked back at the three of them.  
  
“We’ll take her into custody, then transfer her to the same nuclear testing facility we used with Cassandra for examination and questioning.” He turned back to the console and, after a moment’s thought, flipped a switch there. The heavy, armored slab covering the observation window obediently began to retract, and they all looked down into the Gate room. Jack took a second to murmur an aside to Carter and Daniel.  
  
“I know Teal’c has to go pretty deep into that  _kel-no-reem_  thing when he’s getting over being shot and all, but I think somebody should wake him up before he misses all the excitement.”  
  
Carter was busy reconfiguring her power-flow displays, so Daniel reluctantly edged to the side, still looking out into the room as he fumbled for the phone that was tied into various parts of the SGC.   
  
As the lights came up in the Gate room, and the doors opened to disgorge a dozen armed Airmen, the girl suddenly looked up from her glowing hands, her eyes wide with surprise.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The truth was, Dawn’s success as a thief relied pretty much entirely on her Key magick; which, after it had been awakened during that whole thing with Glory and the tower, let her unlock basically anything that  _could_  be unlocked. Other thieving skills, such as maintaining a constant watch on her surroundings and being able to react instantly to danger? Well, those could definitely use some improvement. This fact was made clear to her when the lights in the room came up, two wide doors across from her slid open, and a small horde of soldiers ran into the room... and all she could do was stare at them in shock. They came to a stop at the foot of the sloped pedestal-thing that she shared with the Donut, and then all of them aimed guns at her.  
  
Her eyes felt like they were completely round, and panic had her heart going at slightly over three thousand beats a minute. The booming voice that echoed through the room a few seconds later didn’t do much to calm her.  
  
“You have entered this facility without permission, and we will not hesitate to use force if you attack, or resist us in any way.” Her gaze snapped up from the men with the guns (aimed right  _at_  her!) to where one of the dull metal plates had slid aside to reveal a wide window with another room looking onto this one. There were several people in there, and one of them, a bald, older man, was the one with the loud voice that was saying the scary things.  
  
“Remain still, surrender now, and offer no resistance.”  
  
Dawn stared at him, at all of them, completely incapacitated by a flood of raw terror.  
  
 _Oh. My. God. This isn’t a donut cult--this is the_  Initiative _!_  
  
Unlike most of the others, she had actually  _liked_  Riley, and he had told her lots and lots of stories about what that government program had done.  
  
Experiments, on anything that wasn’t a hundred percent human... like her. Procedures that were torture in everything but name; cutting and cutting, just to see what would happen. Grafting different kinds of tissue together, fusing machinery to flesh, implanting control chips in brains....  
  
Two of the soldiers were moving; moving towards her. These two didn’t have guns: one had handcuffs, and the other what she guessed were the kind made to bind together ankles.  
  
 _They’re going to grab me and chain me up and take me somewhere awful and find out I’m not a real human girl and then they’ll cut and cut and cut till I’m not pretty any more then they’ll make me a machine monster with a chip in my head so that I’m not even me._  
  
Incredible as it seemed, she had managed to find a fate even worse than the one that Willow had planned for her.   
  
“ _No_ ,” she whispered, barely realizing she was saying it aloud. “Please,  _no_.”  
  
It wasn’t defiance, she was too scared to manage that. It was a prayer, desperately thrown out into the ether in the hope that something would answer.   
  
Nothing did, not even the looming presence that she still felt thrumming faintly all around her, that nearly limitless potential that seemed poised to do...  _something_.  
  
Then the two soldiers reached her, and grabbed at her, and without even meaning to, she pulled away.  
  
Really,  _really_  away, in that sidewards-through direction she’d just learned how to see.  
  
And in that last instant before the world flickered, her eyes had been on the people watching from behind the glass.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The girl vanished.  
  
Right there, right in front of them, with no warning and nothing to mark the event besides a faint, almost subliminal flicker of green light. Everyone in the control room was staring out at the Gate room, stunned, trying to process what they’d just seen.   
  
Daniel, too, was a bit shocked and confused, but his problem was a little different than everyone else’s. After determining that Teal’c was in fact out of his meditation trance and on his way, he’d only just hung up the handset when it happened: the girl vanished from the Gate room.  
  
And reappeared in the  _Control_  room.  
  
Roughly three feet away from him.  
  
“--did she go? Captain Carter?”  
  
“Unclear, sir. Still no activity from the Gate that I can see--”  
  
“--some kind of stealth, or invisibility?”  
  
Everyone else, even the two Airmen who were stationed there for security, was staring out at the Gate, and the crowd of confused men who had been about to capture the intruder. The same intruder who was staring at Daniel with wide eyes, looking just as startled by what had happened as he was. Deciding that the situation called for something more thought out than simply grabbing her, he gave her a small, hopefully reassuring smile.  
  
“Um.... Hi?”  
  
She darted a look at the others, still talking tensely among themselves with their backs to both of them. Looking back at him, she let out a shallow, shuddering little breath before answering softly.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Daniel nodded back at her, hugely encouraged by that single word. Still keeping his voice down, he kept going.  
  
“So... did you misdial your Gate, or touch a sort of mirror thing set in a block of stone, or...?  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
She had  _no_  idea what he was talking about, but he was cute.  
  
Like, insanely, boyishly, bookishly cute, in a way that made her heart trip and stumble as it tried to decide if it was still beating fast because she was scared, or because she’d found a young, dreamy version of Giles, round glasses and all.  
  
 _Um... I think it’s because of the cute, because I’m not scared. Okay, not_  as  _scared. That thing that happened, where I was out there and then I was in here, with only that weird --SNAP-- feeling in between... that was_  me _! I did that!_  
  
She knew what the Donut did, now. It changed the world, or maybe the space where the world was sitting. Only in a small way, or maybe it was big, but happening off on the planes where only magic or energy existed. Either way, it altered things in a very specific way, that somehow meshed perfectly with Dawn’s Keyness. She’d already had the power to unlock doors and windows and any kind of safe or vault.  
  
Now she could unlock  _distance_.  
  
She knew she should still be scared; she was still didn’t know where she was or what she was going to do about this new Initiative she’d stumbled upon. She knew that, and she was scared, a little. But, all the same, it was hard to be too worried when that vast lake of crystalline power was there, thrumming silently and pressing so reassuringly close all around her. And that blink, that  _snap_  that had let her move from one place to another, it had been so  _easy_!  
  
Also, the guy in front of her seemed kind, and had a nice voice, and was ridiculously cute.  
  
She wondered if she could talk him out of working for the bad guys. After all, Buffy had managed to bring Riley around, and had gotten in some fun dating and even funner sex along the way. Looking at the ‘prettier than Giles  _ever_  was’ person before her, Dawn decided that seducing handsome men away from evil government organizations was a Summers tradition she would be happy to uphold.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The girl stared at him for several long seconds, saying nothing but growing visibly calmer all the same, which was more than he’d dare hope. On the other hand, her remarkable blue-green eyes were now regarding him in an odd, speculative way that he found faintly disturbing. Inspecting her in return, he found that a wealth of details besides her eye color were apparent at this range, and he quickly began taking mental notes:  
  
Her clothing looked to be machine-made; the pale cream dress ending at mid-thigh, and showing a great deal of very shapely leg. Her arms were more modestly covered, but glimpses of the girl’s extremely pale skin were visible through the sleeves of pale, tight-fitting lace. She wore dangling earrings of dark gold, as well as lipstick, eyeshadow, and what seemed to be a faint dusting of glitter everywhere else.. Her hair was very long, falling all the way to her tailbone, and it was a spectacular cascade of waves and highlights. There was a lot of pride, and loving, obsessive care wrapped up in that hair, something he saw far more often on Earth than in offworld cultures. In point of fact, this girl’s demeanor and mode of dress very much resembled that of his older niece, Jessica, all dressed up for a date with her boyfriend. She was even wearing black ankle boots, complete with high heels that were around three inches tall.  
  
“Doctor Jackson!”  
  
The sound jolted him out of his contemplation of the girl, and she gave a start as well, whirling to face the others, the movement setting her long hair flying. He looked to where General Hammond and the others had finally noticed what was quietly happening behind them. Samantha was staring at the girl with frank amazement, and Jack was giving him a look that said ‘What are you _doing_?’. Daniel shook his head to indicate ‘I have no idea’, and opened his mouth to urge the General to take a moment and try to diffuse the situation. He was too late; the other man was already speaking.  
  
“Young lady, we have no wish to harm you, but you  _will_  surrender yourself for questioning, or we will have no choice but to consider you a hostile!” He didn’t shout, and he didn’t bluster, but the hard, forceful tone of his voice made the girl flinch all the same. Two more Airmen came up the stairs into the room, pistols in hand, and their eyes went instantly to the girl. At Hammond’s gesture, all four of the security officers moved forward, weapons trained, ready to subdue her when they got within arm’s reach.  
  
She looked at them, and even though she tried for an air of bravado, Daniel saw her lick her lips and swallow before speaking.  
  
“Nope, don’t think so,” she said, and he had to give her points for the cocky tone; the strained tension in her voice was barely detectable. Then, having given her reply to Hammond’s ultimatum, her eyes narrowed in concentration for a bare instant and she vanished again.  
  
This time nearly everyone saw both parts of it, the blink out and the blink in, with no interval between the two events, both of them marked by that ephemeral green flicker. The Airmen were the only ones facing the wrong way to see her appear ten feet behind them, standing at the top of the stairs. They whirled at the sound of her giggle, to find her smiling at them.  
  
“Airmen--!” Hammond began, but they didn’t need further orders. They advanced on her again, slightly more quickly this time. The girl, who was looking more confident by the second, gave everyone a little wave, glanced down the stairs, and disappeared. From the room below there came a gleeful cry.  
  
“This is so  _cool!_ ”  
  
The Airmen charged down after her, leaving Jack, Samantha, Hammond and Daniel there to look at one another blankly.  
  
Jack spoke up, deadpan:  
  
“Well,  _that_  happened.”


	2. Quick Like a Bunny

_In the memory, Dawn was seven years old, and the water park was equal parts frightening and wondrous. She_ loved  _the wading pool, where the water was barely knee-deep even on her small form, and three geyser-like fountains threw spray high into the air only to fall back down on the giggling children as droplets, mist and rainbows. On the other hand, the huge main pool, where even the 'shallow' end was just over her head, was absolutely terrifying. Her mother tried and tried to entice her in, promising to support her so that she could at least learn how to dogpaddle.  
  
Dawn would have none of it. Even though there were plenty of kids her own age or younger in there, playing and swimming about, the very idea filled her with dread. With nothing solid beneath her feet, she could slip beneath the surface so easily, never to be seen again. (Somehow, in her mind, she was convinced that she would vanish the instant her head went under, and Joyce never even realize she was gone, much less be able to find her.)  
  
The best thing about the park, though, the part that made up for the lurking menace of the pool, were the water chutes. Half a dozen semi-circular channels zig-zagged their way down the side of a small hill. Each of them, their smooth-polished concrete filled with a foot or so of rushing water, carried shrieking, laughing park-goers to the bottom, where they raised walls of spray as they slid across the shallow pool there. Dawn wanted to go down those chutes from the instant she saw them, all the way from the front of the park as Joyce parked the car. She was bouncing and pleading to go even as they paid for their tickets and made their way inside. The only problem was that pool at the bottom.   
  
Lurking.  
  
Waiting.  
  
Ready to erase her, the instant her head slipped beneath the surface.  
  
It was silly of course, and her mother tried to convince her that she would never let Dawn out of her sight, or allow her to disappear, or forget to look for her even if she went under for a moment. It didn't matter. Dawn didn't believe her, and she wouldn't let Joyce take her on the slide, though she desperately wanted to go.  
  
So Buffy took her.  
  
Her sister was thirteen years old, and just starting the transition from pretty young girl to beautiful young woman. She was taller than Dawn, but tiny in comparison to everyone else, and was in no way physically strong or imposing. None of that was important. She was fierce and smart, fearless and beautiful, and Dawn trusted her sister to keep her safe.  
  
Buffy herself wasn't at all keen to get wet. She had friends there at the park that day, other girls who were far better company than bratty little Dawnie. Even though she was wearing a bathing suit, she‘d spent a lot of time doing her hair and makeup, with the intention of socializing _ near _the water, not actually getting in and splashing around. It was only when Joyce asked her for the third time, accompanied by that quiet, guilt-inducing stare that all mothers somehow master, that the blonde girl gave a heavy, put-upon sigh and led Dawn to the top of the hill.  
  
She waited patiently while the smaller girl gathered up her courage, and when she was ready, the two of the went sliding down together, Buffy behind her, arms wrapped around her tight. Dawn shrieked all the way down the hill, as the warm, rushing water swept them along the channel so very, very fast, and when they reached the bottom she shrieked again, because the pool was THERE, where it had been waiting, just biding its time. Even though it wasn't that deep, the pool was tricksey, and when they shot from the chute and water sprayed everywhere, her head slipped beneath the surface, even as her feet scrabbled desperately at the slippery bottom--  
  
\--And Buffy lifted her, pulling her back up into the air and light, her long, carefully arranged hair now a sodden mass of dripping, golden strands. Dawn, her fears momentarily banished, immediately started bouncing and giggling.  
  
"Let's go again!" she begged her sister. "Please, Buffy? Pleasepleasepleeeeeeeeeease?"  
  
The girl sighed, and looked at where her friends were gathered by the large pool, talking and laughing, and then sighed yet again.  
  
"Okay," she said, reluctantly. "One more time."  
  
Dawn danced with joy, and threw her arms around her big sister and hugged her as hard as she could. They went to the top, and they came down again, and even though her unreasoning terror of the pool was still there, she could ignore it for now. After the second trip, Dawn begged and pleaded for one more, as she did after the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. They ended up going down the chutes twenty-six times, and every time, when they hit the pool and she slipped beneath the surface, those arms were always there, holding her tight, keeping her safe, lifting her back into the sunlit world.  
  
Buffy never let her go.  
  
Not once.  
  
Dawn knew now that those memories were a lie, an elaborate fiction created by some monk’s magic. That didn’t matter, because she chose to not _ let _it matter. She chose to believe it was, in spite of everything, somehow real.  
  
Because it was true to what had come later. Even after she learned what Dawn really was, Buffy had set aside her own needs, her own hopes and desires, and had done everything she could for her little sister. When the time came, and the lurking, patiently waiting dimensional abyss had yawned wide beneath Dawn’s feet, ready to suck her down into nothingness and oblivion, it had been the same as in her memories of the water park.  
  
Her sister, her fierce, fearless and beautiful sister, had kept her safe.  
  
Buffy had refused to let Dawn go. _  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
There were more of the soldier types in the room below that first one, and the men from up above were hurrying down after her too, their boots ringing on the steel stairway. Dawn’s hands clenched into nervous fists, and her eyes were wide as she looked wildly about.  
  
 _Okay, okay, you can do this, just don’t panic--There!_  
  
A doorway beckoned to her, just visible beyond the three tall men with guns and black berets. An instant of concentration and the world flickered, with Dawn now in the doorway and the men behind her, confused for a crucial few moments. She ducked through as they whirled and caught sight of her, immediately charging along in her wake. There was an uncomfortable ache in her middle as she scanned the next room, which she put down to a very understandable case of nerves. This room was long and narrow, with racks of computer servers all along both sides, thick bundles of cables going up through the ceiling, and two men in normal-looking clothes instead of camouflage staring at her in surprise. Dawn grinned, taking a few steps forward even as she focused her attention on the door that lay just beyond them, and--  
  
 _"--Ow!"_  
  
A sharp, stabbing replaced the dull pain in her belly, along with a cold, sick sensation that began spreading outwards from there. She tried again to shift herself through space, and the pain lanced through her again, stealing her breath away.  
  
 _Ouch! Why isn’t it working? Why can't I--?!_  She blinked, even as heavy footsteps from behind her warned of her pursuer's arrival. _Oh, wait--I think I see._  
  
That huge concentration of power, what she was visualizing as a deep, crystalline lake, surrounded her still, thrumming silently as it waited to be put to use. What she hadn't seen before was that it wasn't just around her. Some tiny, infinitesimal portion actually lay  _within_  her... or at least it lay within the outer edges of Dawn's Key self; the orb of energy that glimmered and glowed in place of her body over on that plane of existence where only mystics and crazy people could see it. That microscopic bit of the lake, those few droplets of crystalline power, were what she'd been drawing upon to make the world flicker, and her body snap from place to place. Unfortunately, that was barely enough to allow even such short hops, and now it was all used up. Unless she could somehow access more of it....  
  
Energy rushed into her almost before she tried reaching for it, pouring in through a metaphysical sluiceway in the Key's matrix that had opened in response to her need. The empty misery at the center of her vanished, washed away by an influx of clean, vibrant force that set every particle of Dawn’s being aglow with power. Her eyes tingled faintly, and the world again took on that precise, glassy clarity, tinged ever-so-slightly with green.  
  
"Surrender!" The shout came practically in her ear, and from the corner of her eye she saw reaching hands--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
\--The world blinked and changed around her with something that wasn’t exactly a sound  _or_  a sensation, and she was on the far side of the room, yanking the door open and slipping through. Pausing long enough to shoot a quick grin back at the soldiers, just starting to lurch into motion after her, she took stock of her new surroundings. There was a short hallway, with a door in front of her and another a few steps off to the left. She hurried to the left one, her heels making a rapidfire clicking on the bare concrete. When she opened the door and peered through it there was a long corridor stretching off to both left and right, so she looked left and....  
  
 _FlickerSNAP--FlickerSNAP--FlickerSNAP_  
  
Three hops took her the entire length of the corridor, past several random people who were wide-eyed and staring, and Dawn couldn't help giggling as the concrete walls seemed to rush past her.  
  
 _It's like me and Buffy at the waterpark, when I was little_ , she realized, her smile turning sad, fading, gone. The power continued to pour into her, streaming endlessly  _through_  her, carrying Dawn effortlessly along, just as the water had carried them forward, rushing down those channels set in the warm, sunlit hillside. She came to an intersection in the corridor that branched left or right. She chose right, wondering just how big this secret basement or whatever it was could possibly be....  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The sounds of the girl and the Airmen giving chase were still audible in the distance; every armed man was on their way to aid in the capture. That being the case, there was little point in the command staff joining in, so they set about coordinating things from Gate control.  
  
"How was she able to do that? Captain?"  
  
Samantha was used to being able to provide answers, but at that moment she didn't have much to offer her superior.  
  
"I'm... not sure, General." She glanced up at him, then looked back at the console before her, fingers dancing across the keyboard as she continued to speak. "What that girl is doing--which  _appears_  to be teleporting from one location to another--should be impossible. Barring, of course, a level of technology at least equal to that of the Stargates themselves."  
  
Hammond looked out into the Gate room for a moment, then back at her.  
  
“I didn’t see her using any technology; she just vanished. And even the Goa’uld, with all they can do, still use things that are recognizable as devices.”  
  
“The Nox don’t,” Jack said, without looking up from watching Carter work. Samantha nodded.  
  
“That’s true, sir.” Something occurred to her, even as she finished routing the security feeds from the lower complex into her panel, and brought the results up on the screen. “What if--I wonder if it’s possible that what we saw was an illusion? One of the Nox, or someone with similar abilities, might be able to project an image into the base. Maybe as some sort of distraction.”  
  
Daniel, standing behind them with his arms folded and his head lowered in thought, shook his head minutely.  
  
“I’m sure I smelled her perfume, when she was in here. And she didn’t look like she was executing some elaborate plan.” He raised his head and regarded O’Neill and Hammond. “She looked confused. Scared.” The General started to reply, but Samantha cut him off.  
  
“Sir, I have a visual.”  
  
Everyone looked at the large screen. Even though there wasn’t anything like total coverage of the base, there were several dozen cameras scattered around. They watched as the girl appeared out of nowhere, at one of the corridor junctions, and when she vanished a moment later Samantha managed to pick her up at the next turning, where there was a bit of a surprise waiting....  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn had lost track of how many turns she’d made, and was starting to wonder if she was heading back to those first two rooms, the ones with the donut and the loud, bald man. She reached the next turning, where there was a choice of a heavy steel door in front of her, or the continuation of the corridor off to the side--except there were five more people right  _there_ , just a few feet away. Only two of them were dressed in the green fatigues and black berets, the other three wore pale blue dress shirts and dark slacks, though there were military patches or ranks or whatever on them.  
  
Those three stood back out of the way as the other two fumbled for the pistols at their belts. Dawn quickly looked back at the door before her. It was solid, like everything else in this place, and she didn’t have time to open it anyway; not when the soldiers were already drawing their guns.  
  
 _I need to go through some of these. If I can get out of sight for even a few seconds, I can catch my breath and think about what to do, instead of just blipping down the halls in big circles. Okay then--_  
  
\--Nothing happened. The world didn’t flicker, even though she was concentrating  _very_  hard on her need to be on the other side of that door. She tried drawing harder on the lake of power, and the conduit within her obediently widened, letting even more of the energy rush through her, crystalline and potent beyond imagining.  
  
And yet, for some reason she couldn’t make the short hop to the other side of the door. Dawn’s face fell into a Buffy-style pout, though on the inside she was seriously freaking out.  
  
 _Ack! It feels like it’s out of reach, or something! Like I can’t connect to the place where I want to go!_  
  
She didn’t have time to wonder why, she didn’t have time for anything at all.   
  
“Don’t move!” The two soldiers were standing less than ten feet away, pistols now aimed directly at her head. “Raise your hands,” one of them grated, his unblinking eyes locked on hers. “And get on your knees.”  
  
Dawn’s hand was resting lightly on the door’s handle, and she wiggled it experimentally.  
  
“ _Don’t!_ ” The soldier warned, taking a half-step towards her.  
  
The door was locked, which ordinarily would not have been a problem for her. Unfortunately, even if she unlocked it, there was no way she could pull it open and slip through before they stopped her. So, with nothing else coming to mind, she gave the man her most innocent smile.  
  
“Um... I was with the tour group, and I think I made a wrong turn.” Pitching her voice to be as soft, girlish, and harmless-sounding as she could, Dawn gestured vaguely around her. “Please, sir; could you direct me to the nearest ladies’ room?”  
  
The soldier, big meanie that he was, didn’t buy it for a second.  
  
“I say again, raise your hands!”  
  
 _Darn it_ , She thought, her inner voice sullen.  _That works every time when some guard in a museum or art show catches me sneaking around where I shouldn’t._  
  
She looked around. The corridor beyond the soldiers wasn’t a good option; there was a small crowd of plain-clothed technicians, or office workers, or whatever they were, gathering there to watch. If she went that way she’d land right in among them. Without much hope, she tried to make a jump past where they stood, around the corner where she’d be out of sight when she arrived.   
  
 _Nothing. I can’t do it like that, for some reason. Stupid power._  
  
“I’m going to count to three,” the soldier grated, his voice all low and cranky-sounding. Looking at the gun he held, Dawn swallowed, and raised her hands slowly, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.   
  
“Please, sir, don’t shoot?” She made her eyes all huge and frightened... which wasn’t all that difficult, given the circumstances. “Honestly, I was just looking for the bathroom, and everyone started freaking out for no reason at all....”  
  
The second soldier had a walkie-talkie out, and was speaking into it.  
  
“General Hammond? We have the intruder.”  
  
The long corridor she’d come down a minute before was in front of her as she stood there with her hands raised, and all the soldiers she’d gone past up until now came around the corner, thundering along in one largish group. Seeing that she’d been caught, they slowed to a trot, the frustrated looks on their faces turning to ones of satisfaction. Dawn took a breath, gauging the distance, and waited till the last of them had come around the corner, which was something like a hundred feet away.  
  
“Now,” the one beside her said, keeping his pistol aimed one-handed as he reached for her wrist. “You’re going to come with us, and you’re going to do as you’re--”  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was all the way down the hall, just at the corner. Glancing back, she saw that one man staring at her, mouth still open. All of the twenty or so men in the hallway between them turned to follow his gaze.   
  
Unable to resist a very smug smile, Dawn pitched her voice to carry across the distance between them.  
  
“Never mind, sir, I’ll find it myself! I think it’s back this way! Thanks!”  
  
She looked down the corridor to the right, now conveniently free of armed men, and concentrated on the next intersection she could see.  
  
 _I need to find another way. Maybe if I take more rights-hand turns?  
  
FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
General Hammond had a radio handset, and was busy chewing out the hapless Airman who’d let the girl slip from his grasp.  
  
Jack straightened up from where he’d been leaning over to watch the monitor, ignoring the chatter as he mentally replayed the scene they had just witnessed.  
  
“Did you see that?” Carter asked, an edge of excitement in her voice.   
  
“See what?” Daniel asked. Jack looked down at where Carter sat and nodded.  
  
“She couldn’t get through it.” Seeing confusion on Hammond and Jackson’s faces, he pointed at the screen. “She stopped at that door. She wanted to go through it, but something stopped her.” The General looked at him, then at Carter.  
  
“Because it’s made of steel? Why would that make a difference?”  
  
The Captain shook her head, even as she worked to reacquire the girl on the security cameras.  
  
“It wouldn’t, sir. I doubt that has anything to do with it. Besides, did you notice? She could have kept going along the same corridor; there were far fewer base personnel there. Instead, she chose to go back the way she came, right through twenty armed Airmen. Why would she do that?”  
  
Jack visualized that particular location; after spending most of a year stationed in the SGC his memory readily provided the image. When he considered the sharp little zig-zag the corridor made at that point--  
  
“Line of sight!” Carter exclaimed, surprising absolutely no one by answering her own question ahead of anyone else. “She must only be able to reach locations she can physically see!”  
  
Hammond, who despite his straightforward manner was plenty bright himself, nodded acknowledgement.  
  
“Of course. She was only able to appear in here after I opened the blast shield.”  
  
“Yessir,” Carter said, then smiled triumphantly as she again found the girl on a surveillance camera. “She’s in sector Bravo, the North corridor.”  
  
Jack was already bent over an auxiliary console, keying in his command code so that he could access the base security systems.  
  
“All right then. If she can only blink to places she can see, let’s see if we can box her in.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn was becoming a bit unnerved simply by the sheer size of the place. Her initial thought was that it was hidden under some normal-seeming building in a city somewhere, like the Initiative’s old place in Sunnydale. This, though, seemed much larger than anything that could possibly be hidden under a city street.  
  
 _Unless I’m going in circles, and seeing the same four hallways over and over and over, which I’m sure I’m not. Well,_  almost  _sure._  
  
She passed more doors; normal-seeming ones that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an office building. When she surprised an older man stepping out though one of them she paused long enough to peer past him, and found that it  _was_  an office. Since there were no windows in there, and no other way out, that was no help at all, and she hurried on.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP  
  
FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was well ahead of the pack pursuing her now, though she could still hear the stomp of all those combat boots in the distance. Another turning took the corridor left, then another just beyond that let her choose between straight and right.  
  
 _Wait a second. Maybe I can skip all of this and just--_  
  
She tilted her head back, stared at the concrete ceiling, and concentrated hard on being  _OUT_.  
  
Nothing happened, other than that feeling of something being vague and out of reach. The endless, thrumming water of the lake continued to pour through her, but it didn’t seem to be a question of not having enough power.  
  
 _Grrrr. Looks like I need to keep going. There must be an elevator, or some stairs here, somewhere. Or maybe a big, roomy air vent that I can crawl through?_  
  
The boots were getting closer, so she peered down the two hallways, trying to decide which to take, when a shrill klaxon started to blare, making her jump.  
  
“What--?”  
  
A grinding sound from overhead made her look up, and she saw a slab of steel as thick as her arm descending from a slot in the ceiling. With a startled little squeak she hopped forward so that she wouldn’t be blocked... only to see another one coming down at the far end of the corridor.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was past that one too, just in time as it came down with thump, seating itself into a shallow groove in the floor. Looking back over her shoulder at it, she hurried around the corner that had limited the distance she could go in one blink... and nearly bumped her nose on yet another slab, already all the way down. Looking forward and back, Dawn saw that she was trapped in a short section of corridor, with nothing but a few of the office-type doors to keep her company.  
  
“No! That‘s not  _fair!_ ” The constant tension, along with all the little shocks along the way, were starting to take their toll, and her voice had a decidedly whining tone. She was a little out of breath, too, and feeling faintly dizzy.  
  
 _Hey, I’m not supposed to_  need  _to be in shape. I’m a classy burglar, yeah, but not a classy_  cat  _burglar--no climbing or running or crazy ninja-girl gymnastics for me when I can just walk through every locked door and take what I want._  
  
That explained her rapid breathing; the dizziness, though, was a different matter. She leaned against the wall for a moment, poking mentally at her inner self.  
  
 _Oh. Okay, there it is. I’m pulling more energy through me than I‘m using up, and it’s starting to make me a little loopy. No problem._  
  
She narrowed the channel through which the power flowed, and her head cleared. Sighing with relief, she combed her fingers through her long hair, repeating the motion over and over in an oft-practiced ritual. As always it served to reassure and calm her, and she looked around again, trying to determine her next move. She examined the barrier that blocked her way forward, and something caught her eye, up near the top of the slab. Still stroking her hair, she stared up at one of the little mirrored bubbles that typically housed security cameras.  
  
 _You must think you’re soooooo smart,_ she thought at whoever was watching at the other end.  _Well, I‘ve got tricks I haven‘t shown you yet. Here, watch this._  
  
Off to the side of the steel barrier there was a small panel, equipped with a little number pad and a slot to swipe a magnetic card. The innards were behind more armor plating, making it a major undertaking for anyone who wanted to try and rewire it raise the slab. Dawn had no need for something as crude as that. Placing her palm on the number pad, she extended a portion of her inner self through the Key’s matrix.  
  
“Dawnie says: ‘Open up’.”  
  
Immediately, without any fuss or bother, the massive steel plate began to rise. It wasn’t even magic, strictly speaking. The Key was older than magic, and more fundamental than any mere spell. Dawn didn’t have access to anything more than a tiny sliver of its true power, which was totally okay, as she had no wish whatsoever to dissolve the walls between universes. Opening things that others would rather she didn’t, on the other hand, was immensely satisfying, and she wished she could have seen the looks on the faces of the people who’d tried to trap her.  
  
Giving her hair a defiant ‘take that‘ flip in the direction of the camera, she strolled through the opening and down the hall.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
O’Neill frowned down at the screen, plucking thoughtfully at his lower lip. Hammond now visibly frustrated, looked over at Carter.  
  
“More technology?”  
  
She gave a sort of diagonal, qualified nod.  
  
“More  _something_ , sir.” She keyed a diagnostic into her console, and blinked at the results it obediently displayed. “According to this, the seal in the corridor was overridden locally by a code of a level the computer accepted as superseding all other authority... including yours.” The General stared at her, confusion outweighing anger and frustration.  
  
“Captain, there  _isn’t_  a level higher than mine.”  
  
She nodded acknowledgement, and turned back to her display.  
  
“It’s actually worse than that. Not only does that code not exist, even if it did it shouldn’t have opened that seal. Not when Colonel O’Neill triggered the closure from Gate Control under a priority alert.”  
  
Daniel spoke up from where he was standing, at the edges of things.  
  
“So she’s a master hacker now, on top of being a commando?” His doubt was clear in his voice. “Funny, I usually picture both of those things as looking a little different that what we‘re seeing here....”  
  
O’Neill chose that moment to break in, before Daniel made his inevitable plea for them to make nice and be friends with whichever enemy was intent on annihilating them this time around.  
  
“Recommend we unseal everything we just sealed, sir,” he said to Hammond. “If she can get through them that easily then its helping her and hurting us. We’re better off pushing her with lots of personnel. If we keep the pressure on, sooner or later she’ll make a mistake.”  
  
The General nodded, apparently having come to the same conclusion.  
  
“Very well, Colonel.”  
  
Jack typed the appropriate commands into his console, finishing up just as Carter abruptly straightened in her chair.  
  
“Sir! She’s working her way towards the elevators, but it looks like--”  
  
“O’Neill.”  
  
The radio sitting at Carter’s elbow did its best to relay that voice accurately, but failed to really convey the resonant baritone. Jack snatched it up.  
  
“Teal’c! Glad you could make it.”  
  
“My apologies for the delay. I have been informed that there is an intruder.”  
  
Even though the other man couldn’t see it, O’Neill nodded, quickly describing the situation for Teal‘c in a few terse sentences. As he finished, Carter waved to get his attention, pointing at a schematic of the base she‘d brought up on a secondary screen. He saw what she meant, and saw on the monitor that the girl had just materialized at a junction. Seeing several Airmen running at her from ahead, and glancing behind to where there were doubtless even more approaching, she chose to slip down a slightly narrower hall, blinking out of the camera’s view as she took her shortcut to the far end.  
  
Jack smiled a grim little smile at Carter, and keyed the radio again.  
  
“Hey, Teal’c? If you could get to junction Gamma-four in the next few seconds, we might finally be able to bag this bunny.”  
  
He caught a glimpse on one of the screens of the big man running down a corridor. Despite his size, the Jaffa was moving faster than most sprinters could have managed, though when he replied his voice showed no signs of effort or strain.  
  
“Fear not, O’Neill. The bunny shall not elude me.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn was starting to get a sinking feeling, like she’d made a serious mistake. The corridor she’d taken had  _seemed_  like a good choice at first. There weren’t any of the soldiers in it, which was a good thing, and it looked different enough than the rest of the place to make her absolutely certain she hadn’t already been that way, which was also of the good. When she got to the end there was only a single large door. Matching the rest of what she’d seen so far in this huge, frustrating place, there wasn’t a sign to say what was behind it, but it was a big,  _solid_  door. It had a big, solid lock on it too, which gave her a surge of hope.  
  
 _Super-strong door, super-secure lock, tucked away off by itself... this could be the way out!_  
  
Even though she only vaguely recalled Spike’s stories about his escape from the Initiative complex, she was pretty sure there had been some sort of back exit or escape tunnel involved. It only made sense that the evil agents and scientists would have one of those handy; according to every James Bond movie she’d ever seen the things were practically mandatory when you had an evil lair.  
  
However, when she put her hand on the locking mechanism (another card swipe and number pad arrangement) and demanded that it open for her, she didn’t get the fresh air and sunlight she’d hoped to find. Instead, after lots of clicks and whirrs indicating the locks were disengaging, she pushed it open and found what looked like... a locker room.  
  
 _Um.... What?_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
There was a camera covering that corridor. There was  _obviously_  a camera covering that corridor, and it showed the door closing behind the oddly dressed girl.  
  
“I was hoping it would take her longer to open that one,” O’Neill said quietly. Carter wasn’t as calm.  
  
“I don’t get how she’s  _doing_  that! That system is all hardwired, there isn’t even any software to manipulate!”  
  
Jack cocked one eyebrow at her.  
  
“Carter?” They’d worked alongside one another long enough for her to recognize that one word as a gentle call to stay calm. With a faint grimace she complied, though she still couldn’t seem to get past what they’d just witnessed.  
  
“Sorry, sir. It’s just... I mean what she’s doing doesn’t make any sense. Even allowing for the teleportation, opening two different styles of locks; incredibly sophisticated and secure locks, just by touching them--! It’s almost like she’s throwing out the rules whenever she wants.”  
  
Daniel stepped up behind her, and put a hand on her shoulder in a show of support.  
  
“There are  _always_  rules for anything that happens, Sam,” he said. “You know that better than any of us. Give it some time. You’ll figure it out.” Nodding at the image on the screen, he went on. “Or we can just ask our guest. I only hope Teal’c doesn’t hurt her.” The big man ran into frame, with several panting Airmen close behind. As he used his card and entered the number string to open it, General Hammond spoke.  
  
“I’m more concerned about her hurting  _him_ , Doctor Jackson. That is the absolute  _last_  place I’d want to confront a hostile.”  
  
Even though O’Neill was thinking the exact same thing, he did what a leader was expected to do, and showed nothing but confidence as he spoke into the radio he held.  
  
“Okay, Teal’c; she can blip around, but only to places she’s looking at. She can’t get out of there if she can’t  _see_  out, copy?”  
  
“Understood.”  
  
On the screen they watched the Jaffa ease the heavy door open a crack, then move it just wide enough to slip through, followed by six Airmen. When it swung closed a moment later, there was no sign of the girl blinking in and out as she escaped. Jack looked at the others, still doing his best to project calm certainty.  
  
“He’ll be fine. Whatever she tries to hit him with, he’ll be fine.”  
  
Hammond looked much less confident.  
  
“What makes you so sure of that, Colonel?”  
  
Jack opened his mouth, only to have Daniel and Carter answer, in unintentional unison:  
  
“Because he’s Teal’c.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The lockers were oversized, and held more than just the universal camouflage outfits. There were army helmets in some of them, and very bulky vests and jackets, even some knee and leg pieces that looked like militarized football gear. A clicking sound from the door behind her made her jump, and she hurried past several rows of the lockers, her eyes moving quickly from one side to the other, watching for anyone who might be lurking there. Her breathing, and her racing heart, which had both been gradually slowing, had shot back to full-blown panic levels. Several agonizing moments passed before she found another heavy door at the opposite end of the room, though this one lacked the elaborate locking system. From behind her she heard several people enter, and she grabbed so frantically at the handle on her door that she nearly broke two nails, wincing sharply at the unexpected pain.  
  
 _Okay, that hurt. And I don’t care what the other thief-girls say; I don’t hit people with these hands, or pick locks either, so I can totally have long, sexy nails if I want._  
  
Completely random and unbidden, the thought fluttered through her mind and was gone, because when she pushed through the door she found herself surrounded by weapons. Not weapons aimed at her, just weapons, sitting there unattended. Racks and racks and yet more racks of rifles, of pistols, of huge, complicated things that she assumed were machine guns and rocket launchers....  
  
 _Eeep!_  
  
“Remain here,” came a deep, resonant voice from the other room. “Do not leave this spot, or allow the door to be opened, no matter what occurs. I will deal with the intruder.”  
  
Dawn felt her stomach drop into her feet, and she pushed the door shut. Ignoring the guns for the moment, she looked around for the next door; the one that led out of the room.  
  
There wasn’t one.  
  
She turned around, and around again, eyes darting about, but the room wasn’t that big. Any door, corridor, or air vent would have been easily visible from where she was standing, and there was nothing. Nothing except guns, and more guns, and cases of what looked like grenades, and several odd staff-shaped things... and some little bent metal gadgets that she could only assume were guns. There were also enough bullets to wage a small war, rockets for the rocket launchers, gas masks, knives, and a few more guns lying half-disassembled on some kind of work table. She was well and truly trapped. She couldn’t ‘unlock’ a solid wall or floor, and she couldn’t  _Snap_  herself somewhere she couldn’t see.   
  
Dawn had been breathing fast before, now she was close to hyperventilating.  
  
 _They’re not giving up. I’m just trying to get_ Out;  _why won’t they give up and let me go?_  
  
Of course the answer was obvious, if she allowed herself to think it: this was the Initiative, not a bunch of mall cops. She couldn’t expect them to stop chasing her, like those clowns who’d half-heartedly come after her when she snatched a cute necklace from the suddenly unlocked case in the store.  
  
There was a sound from behind her, and she whirled to face the solitary door, her swirling hair half-blinding her for a moment. The panel opened, and a huge shape eased into view.  
  
 _Oh god--it’s one of those cyberdemonbio... somethings. Like the one Buffy fought; Adam._  
  
This one was easily as big as what Xander had described, although it had no visible machine parts. There was a gold symbol embedded in its forehead, though, and it moved with disconcerting smoothness for something so large. When those dark eyes locked on hers, she felt very small, and very helpless, and there was no one at all to save her this time.  
  
 _Buffy!_  
  
Buffy was dead. Buffy had already given her everything she  _could_  give.  
  
 _Spike! Faith!_  
  
Neither of them were here; they were both universes away. All of her powerful protectors were out of reach, and Dawn had never been very good at protecting herself. She’d run away from Sunnydale soon after Buffy’s death, and she’d run away from danger or trouble whenever it had found her afterwards. It had worked very well for her, too, until Willow had finally managed to track her down.  
  
“You must surrender,” the huge, dark man-demon informed her, his voice level even though his eyes burned with quiet intensity. “We know the limits of your power, and you cannot escape from this place.”  
  
The energy of the lake was still pouring through her in a steady stream, shading the world in glassy green, and she frantically tried to do the  _Snap_  thing through the wall to her left, the one to her right, the one behind her, even the ceiling and the floor. All it did was make her feel queasy and ill. Backing away, she threw quick looks at the guns and other weapons all around her. They might be loaded, she might manage to grab one up and aim it at him and pull the trigger and hit him--  
  
“Do not make the attempt,” he said, noting the direction of her gaze. Her eyes met his. “I will not hesitate to injure you, if I must.” He moved the rest of the way into the room, and stood there for a moment, looming, his face grim. “You are obviously Goa’uld, and though I do not understand how you are hiding your symbiote from my senses, it is foolish to pretend otherwise--”  
  
Almost too late, she saw that he was stealthily easing the door closed behind him, which would trap her in a medium-sized room with nowhere to run or hide. Instinctively she focused on the narrow slit of the other room still visible through the gap and--   
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was back in the locker room, just beyond the nearly closed door, and dashing down the middle aisle as quickly as her feet would carry her. Ducking around the last row of lockers, she--  
  
\--She skidded to a stop, staring at the six men drawn up in front of the armored door, all of them staring directly at her.  
  
 _Oh no.…_  
  
From behind her there came a click, as the door to the gun room was closed, then a screechy-scraping sound as something very heavy was pulled across the floor. She knew without looking that the other door was now blocked too.  
  
She was trapped.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
After blocking the door to the Armory, Teal’c moved forward with extreme care. Although he was far larger than the young-seeming woman, and she appeared to be unarmed, caution was advised. A Goa’uld-possessed human had several times the strength of a normal individual, and there was always the possibility of small, powerful weapons concealed upon their person.  
  
He found the woman near the door, staring at the Tau’ri warriors blocking the way. Hearing his approach, she whirled, both hands moving to rake her long hair back from her face. Once again he was struck by the sight of her eyes, which were shining faintly with a steady emerald light. It was very similar to what he was accustomed to see in the eyes of the Goa’uld, though their eyes shone gold, and usually only in brief flares. He wondered if the change in color and duration was due to whatever technology she was employing to shift herself from place to place.  
  
“Stay  _back_!” Her hands dropped to her sides, as slender and delicate as the rest of her, and apparently empty. He stared at him, eyes shimmering, then looked past his shoulder and vanished.  
  
Teal’c whirled smoothly, in perfect balance, ready for the attack... only to see the Goa’uld duck between the furthest rows of lockers. Moving forward as swiftly and silently as possible, he again reached out with all his senses, trying to find the sullen glow of her Naquadah-laced blood in his mind. Once again, he found nothing. That lack, in his opinion, was in some ways more troubling than this other new ability. If the System Lords and their agents could conceal themselves in this manner, then any number of spies or assassins could be present on any world they visited.  
  
A faint sound reached his ears, and he rounded the lockers to find her tugging ineffectually at the storage cabinet he had shifted to block the Armory. He lunged, even as she turned her head, caught sight of him in mid-movement, and vanished again, her shriek of fear oddly disjointed as it was abruptly cut off only to be completed at a point some twenty feet to his left.  
  
“Leave me alone!”  
  
Her hair was in her face again as she spun about and dashed out of sight among the lockers, and the sound of her footwear was clearly audible, allowing him to track her movements effortlessly, and move to intercept. It was altogether odd that this Goa’uld would seek to penetrate an enemy stronghold while attired in such an impractical fashion. Granted, they were arrogance personified, and he had certainly seen that arrogance cross over into outright stupidity on many occasions....  
  
He reached the end of the row at exactly the moment he’d calculated, reaching out as she tried to cross to the opposite side of the aisle. She squeaked, eyes wide as she vanished, only to emerge in the same instant down at the end near the Tau’ri. Those men, acting on their own initiative, detailed two of their number to remain at the door, while the remaining four spread out, advancing on the woman. She came to a halt, backed away, whirled to find Teal’c approaching, and vanished again.  
  
Teal’c took a moment to wish he could make use of a Zat’nik’tel, of which there were several in the adjoining room. Unfortunately, he agreed with O’Neill that such a weapon could conceivably trigger the detonation of any explosives carried by the intruder. No matter; given the size of the room, she would not be able to avoid capture much longer.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn knew there was no way she could keep away from them much longer. The big one was scary quick, and now there were four of the soldiers chasing her too and she couldn’t move that thing in front of the one door and there were still two soldiers in front of the  _other_  door and the power rushing through her was infinite but Dawn herself wasn’t infinite at all and she couldn’t catch her breath and her head was spinning from having to transport herself almost as fast as she could manage, over and over and over--  
  
“There is no escape,” the huge one told her, still maddeningly calm even as he rounded the lockers and came at her in a smooth rush. “Surrender, or else--”  
  
“Stop  _saying_  that!” Dawn screamed back at him, flickering to the far side of the room to stay out of reach, then having to do it again to evade two more sets of reaching hands. “I’m  _not_  going--”  _FlickerSNAP_  “--to just let you--”  _FlickerSNAP_  “--cut me up!”  
  
She tried to blink to the other side of the big door, and failed. Desperate, and with absolutely nothing else she could try, Dawn drew harder on the crystalline lake, gulping down as much power as she could handle. She tried to pass beyond the door again, failed again.   
  
 _More power doesn’t help, and I don’t know what else to try._  
  
She caught a hint of motion from the corner of her eye, and turned to find the big man leaping at her, crossing a startling amount of distance in the process.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was in the center aisle again, whipping her head from side to side, trying to watch every direction at once. Two of the Soldiers were behind her, and she didn’t dare look at them because  _he_  was coming at her again, moving like an untiring machine.  
  
Dawn wanted to scream, but felt like she was more likely to burst into tears any second now.  
  
 _Come on, work!_  
  
Nothing, she still couldn’t get through the door.  
  
“Aaaaaaaaaah!” She shrieked at the top of her lungs, giving voice to her fear and frustration both.  
  
A blink, a flicker, and she was two seconds ahead of the big man, at the far end of the row.  
  
“I hate this!”   
  
She tried again. Even just one foot on the other side of the door and she would be fine. Even one inch.  
  
Nothing. The walls of the room were an absolute barrier. She could not go somewhere she could not see.   
  
“I hate all of this, and I hate all of you!”  
  
A single man in camouflage approached, arms spread wide. She started to shift to the far side of the room, stopped when she saw two of the others already most of the way there, anticipating her. She settled on going only half the distance, though that would leave her practically within arm‘s reach of them--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
“And most of all, I hate your big, stupid,  _Donut--_!”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The flicker of green light that marked the Goa’uld’s shifts came again, significantly brighter than previously, and she was gone. Teal’c came to a halt, as did the four soldiers, all in a loose ring, facing one another. They all paused, heads turning, seeking to locate her. Teal’c’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to listen.  
  
Nothing. No sounds of her feet, nor of her body in motion, nor of her strained breathing. Also, (thankfully), no trace of her piercing shrieks of rage, which had been impressively loud and high pitched, verging on being physically painful.  
  
Even as the Tau’ri spread out to search among the rows of lockers, he was certain they would find nothing. She had eluded them.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“O’Neill.”  
  
Jack felt a surge of relief at the sound of Teal’c’s voice, and keyed his radio in response.  
  
“Hey, we were getting a little worried. How’d it go, do you have her?”  
  
“I do not.”   
  
He frowned, glancing at the others, then back down at the display screen, which still showed the outer door of the Armory. They’d all been staring at that image the entire time, waiting for Teal’c’s report while wishing that there was even one camera mounted inside those rooms.  
  
“Ahh, come again?” he asked cautiously.   
  
“The intruder has vanished. Your assessment of her power and its limitations seems to have been in error.”  
  
Jack scowled down at the screen, carefully not looking at Carter. It wasn’t her fault. Hell, he’d come to the same conclusion about the line-of-sight thing, and given what they’d seen it made perfect--  
  
He looked up, blinked, and stopped in mid-thought. There, out in the Gate Room, at the top of the ramp by the ring itself, stood the girl. She was looking around nervously, as if she expected armed men to jump at her from thin air at any moment. Unfortunately that wasn’t likely to happen, since every last member of their security teams were currently out searching the rest of the complex. Jack mentally kicked himself for a couple of seconds, but he knew it was a completely understandable mistake to have made. The room had been secure, the intruder fled. There had been no reason to think guards were needed, even though, strictly speaking, security should have been present while the alert remained in effect.  
  
“Colonel?” Hammond followed his gaze, and when he saw the girl there his expression hardened. The others looked too, and Daniel’s brows lowered slightly.  
  
“Well, the eyes are different.” He spoke quietly, as if to keep the girl from realizing she was being watched. She knew, though; Jack saw her glance at them, the eerie green shimmer of her eyes looking like the eyeshine certain animals reflected back when caught in car headlights or a flashlight beam.  
  
He also saw that she was deeply shaken. When she used her fingers to comb that tangled mane of hair back from her face, there was a visible tremor in her hands. When she kept repeating the motion, her head bowed, he could see the way she was panting for breath. From behind him, he heard the General key the base intercom.  
  
“This is Hammond: Response teams to the Gate Room, immediately!”  
  
Carter shook her head slowly.  
  
“That won’t do any good, sir. If she can transfer herself anywhere, without any limitations like line-of-sight....”  
  
Jack looked at her, then back to their uninvited guest, and gave a little shrug.  
  
“Here, let me try this.” A tap at the console, and he leaned towards the audio pickup.  
  
“Hey. You.” His voice boomed through the Gate Room, and the girl’s head snapped up, the shimmering eyes meeting his own. “Yeah, you, with the hair. Stop. That thing with the blinking and the blipping around--just stop it. Or else... we will order you to stop. Again.”  
  
She stared at him blankly for around five seconds, then shook her head and closed her eyes. With her fists at her temples, fingers clenched in her hair, she went very still, as if concentrating.  
  
It surprised none of them when she vanished from view, though the flash of emerald light was quite a bit brighter than what they’d seen before. Right on the heels of that the doors to the room slid open, and the SF’s (short for ‘Security Forces’, the Air Force version of MP’s) charged in, to find the room empty.  
  
“Well, that’s it,” Carter said, looking and sounding as dispirited as he’d ever seen her. “If she can do that, there’s no way we can catch her.”  
  
Jack smiled tightly at her.  
  
“Actually, Captain, I think we can.” He nodded to the Gate room. “She came back here, instead of landing somewhere outside the Mountain. I think we were pretty close before--she can only go places she can see... or that she’s  _already_  seen.”  
  
Carter regarded him thoughtfully.  
  
“If that’s the case, then it’s still going to be difficult. She’ll have dozens, or hundreds of places to go.”  
  
“Yeah, but she still needs to go forward, up, and out, if she wants out of this place. That means we can keep the pressure on her.” He looked at the base schematic on the secondary screen, and manipulated the controls to widen the view, then scroll it down. “Did you notice how she didn’t give us a little wave, or smile, or flip her hair at us like before? She’s tired; we’re wearing her down.” Finding what he wanted, he marked the spot on the diagram with his finger while picking up the radio with his other hand.  
  
“Okay, Teal’c? Up and at ‘em, guy. You can still catch her if you hurry.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn looked around, blowing out a big sigh of relief when she found herself alone in a much smaller space.  
  
 _It worked,_  she thought, having trouble believing it.  _I_ can _go places I can’t see, I just have to have been there, and be able to picture it really clearly as I make the jump._  
  
Like she’d pictured the Donut in her mind’s eye, back there in the locker room, completely by accident. Or the place she was standing now; the little office she’d peeked into as she passed, a million years, or maybe ten minutes ago. Luckily for her it was empty, giving her a little time to think.  
  
 _Okay then. Just in case--_  She pictured her favorite club, back in Los Angeles, with the awesome dance floor and the secluded little nooks where she liked to hang out while charming cute guys into buying her drinks. She willed herself there....  
  
 _Nope. It’s either out of range or it doesn’t exist in this place. I can still get out of here, it’ll just have to be the hard way._  She fingercombed her hair for a few precious moments, her heartbeat slowly coming back to something reasonable. She felt much more optimistic now that she knew she could move further than her eyes could see at any particular moment.  
  
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” she told the air, reaching sidewards-through with one hand to wake the green glow. She stroked the light, watching it swirl intangibly around her fingers. "You're not a stupid power at all. You're a wonderful,  _amazing_ power, and I love you soooo much!" She managed a fragile little smile, then turned her attention to what came next.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she pictured the zig-zag corridor where she’d been forced to turn back before. There had to be an elevator or some stairs somewhere in this place, and she hoped it lay somewhere past that spot.  
  
“Ready, Dawnie?” She asked herself, then nodded in answer, as firmly as she could. “Yep! Ready, set...  _go._ ”  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“There!” Carter exclaimed, pointing. The white-clad figure ran through the frame at the quick trot of someone wearing shoes chosen more for looks than speed. O’Neill checked the text at the top of the screen and swore softly to himself. That was the secondary service core she was approaching, not the main one, which she’d nearly reached earlier, before taking a wrong turn into the Armory.  
  
“Teal’c,” he said into his radio. “We guessed wrong. She’s going for the secondary.”  
  
“Acknowledged, O’Neill. I am on my way.”  
  
The screens flipped through several views, showing only base personnel hurrying through corridors, before landing on a view of an open area with three banks of elevators, and a set of heavy doors. The girl had her hand on the security panel, and again, the system inexplicably yielded to her, all three sets of elevator doors sliding open simultaneously. Choosing one, she stepped inside. Hammond watched the screen intently.  
  
“The elevators are all locked out, Captain Carter?”  
  
“Yes sir. We‘re all set.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn blinked in shock. There were the usual buttons inside the elevator, no big surprise there. What startled her was how  _many_ of them there were.  
  
“Twenty- _eight_?”  
  
They all counted downwards, too, with the highest number at the bottom, and the ‘one’ at the top. That pretty much eliminated the chances of this being two or three levels of basement underneath a sky scraper or something. The bottom button was the one that was illuminated, so apparently she was in the deepest section of the place. Reaching up she jabbed the highest button, which didn’t result in anything at all. With an almost scornful little sound she pressed both hands to the panel.  
  
“Not exactly quick learners, are they?” She willed the device to obey her. “Dawnie says: Do what I tell you. Now!”  
  
She felt the blockage release. Reaching up she pushed the button again. This time the elevator hummed, and obediently started up the shaft.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Carter’s smile was ever-so-slightly predatory, her fingers dancing across her console.  
  
“Unlock  _this_.”  
  
Her finger stabbed down on a final key.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The elevator lurched to a sudden stop, making Dawn stagger and nearly fall. She glared at the control panel, reaching towards it with both hands, and the lights flickered out, leaving only the faint illumination of the emergency lighting up near the ceiling. She pushed buttons, tried to break the system free of locks or blockage, but it was no use. Nothing was locked, it was simply dead, all power gone.   
  
Dawn took a breath, her face clouding, two seconds away from a screaming tantrum aimed at both the machine and whoever was doing this to her. A faint hissing sound stopped her before she could begin, and almost by reflex she  _reached--  
  
FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The girl materialized in a flash of green, in exactly the same spot where she’d been ninety seconds earlier, right in front of the Gate. This time the room was  _not_  deserted, and a pair of burly SF’s reacted almost instantly, stabbing from point-blank range with auto-syringes full of tranquilizing agent--   
  
She gasped, vanishing again.   
  
Jack gave the two men a hopeful look through the observation window, and felt himself deflate a bit when they both shook their heads. They’d been fast, just not quite fast enough.  
  
“Slippery little minx, isn’t she?” Daniel commented, looking for all the world like he was pleased.  
  
“Sir,” Carter said, interrupting the maximum-intensity frown he was giving the archeologist. Jack looked at the screen, where the girl was back at the elevators. For a second he almost dared hope she would try one of the other lifts, sitting there with their doors invitingly open, but she went for the stair access instead. For safety reasons those particular electronic locks were standalone, and independently powered. In case of emergency or a base-wide loss of power, it would have been counterproductive for the emergency stairs to be inaccessible. That meant they could only watch as she had her way with the defenseless electronics, and a moment later the door swung open.   
  
A full squad of SF personnel burst in through the far corridor, two of them raising dart guns loaded with powerful tranquilizing loads. They were too late by seconds; the girl had already run into the stairwell. They streamed after her, and before the last of them made it through the doorway, Teal’c arrived in a full sprint, nearly flattening the last of the men as he shouldered his way past.  
  
Looking away from the now motionless image, Carter shook her head.  
  
“Sorry, sir; we don’t have video in the stairwells, and it‘s going to take me some time to get power back to the elevators after crashing the system like that. Any pursuit will have to be on foot.”  
  
Jack winced.  
  
“Ouch.” Counting the thick bands of bedrock that lay between levels, that was well over fifty floors worth of stairs.  
  
Folding his arms, he listened with half an ear as Hammond tried to get someone in the Norad complex far above them to listen as he explained the situation. Given that the situation seemed to involve an alien invader with near-magical abilities, he was having a tough time of it. For the moment, all they could do was wait to see if Teal’c and the others managed to catch her before she reached the upper complex.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
The heels on Dawn’s ankle boots echoed up a basically endless stairwell, the sound almost lost under the noise of all the men charging along behind her. She had the advantage, obviously, in that she didn’t actually have to climb even a single stair: just ten quick steps and a quarter-turn to the left at each landing took her to the bottom of the next flight, where she could see where to go for her next blink up through the intervening space. Doing that over and over again, as quickly as she could, had already opened up a sizable gap between Dawn and her pursuers.  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
There were just so  _many_  landings. The steps themselves were very wide and shallow, apparently made to allow the maximum number of people to climb them at once, while dragging injured people along if necessary. They also made large loops as they corkscrewed their way up through the rock, for reasons she couldn’t begin to guess. That construction forced Dawn to do a lot of actual running, just to cover the distance between each section of stairs  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She realized--too late--that she should have been counting how many landings she’d passed, so that she would have some idea of how far she’d come. Guessing that her current total was something like twenty, she stopped for a quick rest. The sound of the men chasing her echoed from below, the stone walls making it hard to tell how far away they actually were. She imagined she could hear their steps beginning to slow as they tired; surely even soldiers couldn’t get up all those steps at a dead run.  
  
As for Dawn herself, her legs were in some limbo between aching fiercely and being so leaden that she couldn’t feel them. She wasn’t  _quite_  at the point where she was gasping for air, but she wasn‘t far from it either.  
  
 _I blame Faith for that. She’s an awful role-model, and it is completely her fault that I grew up thinking that smoking was something all sexy girls do._  
  
Not that Dawn smoked all that much; just when she was out at a club, or having a drink at a bar, or at a party....  
  
 _Faith’s fault_ , she told herself firmly. Of course there was also the thing where Dawn hated exercise with a passion--the thought of which made her burst into pained, wheezing giggles.  
  
 _Ha! I’ll only ever have to walk up any flight of stairs once from now on. I mean, wow! I’ll only ever have to walk from my bedroom to the_ bathroom _the first time from now on!_  
  
No more cabs, no more waiting in lines to get into a club, or the movies, or a concert. The possibilities were mind-boggling. Filled with a fresh determination to get clear of this awful place and start enjoying herself, she took one last peek around the corner to check the flight of stairs immediately below where she stood.  
  
And it was like a horror movie, when someone peeks around the corner and the monster is right  _there_ , already reaching out to rip their face off.   
  
The huge demon-man was on the stairs, climbing stealthily, the gold symbol above his eyes catching the light from the glow strips that ran along the outer wall.   
  
Dawn couldn’t hold back the little scream that escaped her, and his hands blurred as they raised a spindly-looking gun of some kind. She flinched back, and something yanked at her head as she--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She reappeared one landing higher; which was the furthest point she’d yet glimpsed. As she ran across the width of the landing, something fell and rattled on the concrete at her feet: a small dart, fallen from where it had tangled in her hair.  
  
 _Too close. Gotta go faster, gotta keep going till I’m out._  
  
ClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclopClopclop-- _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“--No, Major, I do not want you to send your men down here. What I want you to do is seal up your main access, unplug every power cable connected to it, and  _leave_  it that way till we get this under control.”   
  
Jack could tell by the look on the General’s face that it wasn’t going well. This was the third officer he’d spoken to in the last five minutes, and apparently he wasn’t any closer to making the Norad boys understand the situation. That was officially a bad thing, since Carter’s displays were showing yet another door opening, at the top of the emergency stairs.  
  
The graphic showed a whole series of them; slabs of armor a foot thick, then a short, wide hallway maybe ten feet in length, then another slab, then another space, and so on. The whole arrangement was meant to absorb the blast wave from a megaton-scale nuclear blast. In Jack’s opinion it was all a bit overkill; if something were powerful enough to make it through more than two thousand feet of granite, it probably wouldn’t be slowed down very much by a few extra tons of steel.  
  
“There it goes, sir,” Carter said, and they watched the last of the door icons turn red. “I’d hoped they would delay her long enough for Teal’c to catch her, but she’s through the last of them, and heading into the upper complex. If the General can’t get them to disconnect the power, she’ll be able open everything they have, and walk right out of the Mountain.”  
  
“Unless they kill her first,” Daniel said softly, staring at the icons. “I somehow get the impression that they’re not clear on the ‘no shooting’ thing.”  
  
“--No, to my knowledge she is not armed,” Hammond snapped into the phone. “But there is a strong possibility that she is carrying an extremely powerful explosive device.... What?!” His voice sharpened, and he went on with even more urgency than before. “No, no! That man is one of ours, do not interfere with--!”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn was staggering from weariness, even as she felt a surge of energy rush through her. She’d been absolutely sure the cyberdemonbioperson would catch up to her while she was opening up those five stupid slab doors that had been waiting for her when she finally got to the top of those four  _billion_  stairs. He hadn’t, though; it looked like her mad dash up from the depths had given her enough of a lead to stay ahead of him. Doing her Key trick in reverse had closed each of them behind her, which would hopefully slow him down a little more. And now she was hurrying through yet more hallways, of a visibly different design than any she‘d seen so far. These looked as if they’d been built to a different plan, or at a different time than the maze down below. The corridors were shorter, the rooms furnished better, the lighting brighter.  
  
There were more people, too, with fewer of the soldier-types mixed in. When she encountered the first bunch of them, she slowed to a walk, smiling brightly and trying to breathe normally. Two men and a woman glanced at her, all of them carrying manila folders and cups of coffee. Dawn’s attempt at blending failed, though, since her clothes and hair didn’t fit in with the military style at  _all_.  
  
“Miss, could I see your I.D.?”  
  
Dawn tried the little-girl-lost routine again, more from habit than any real hope it would work.  
  
“Sir, I’m sorry, I was with the tour group, and one minute they were there and the next minute they were gone... please don’t be mad?” Upping the wattage of her smile a little, she did everything but flutter her eyelashes at him. The woman, who’d already been eyeing Dawn’s short dress and wild mane with faint contempt, visibly rolled her eyes at that. Both of the men, however, made sympathetic noises (while also eyeing her short skirt, and trying not to be too obvious about it).  
  
“Don’t worry, that happens, sometimes,” The younger of the two said, smiling gently. “You really shouldn’t be wandering around, though; this is a secure area. The tour groups are restricted to the green and blue sections only.”  
  
She froze in place, staring at him in stunned amazement.  
  
“Holy. Shit. You mean there really  _are_  tours?”  
  
All three of them regarded her with slowly darkening expressions as they processed that, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second.  
  
 _Faith’s fault_ , she repeated to herself.  
  
“You there! Raise your hands and remain where you are!”  
  
Dawn’s eyes shot open.  
  
 _Not again!_  
  
Five of the now-familiar soldiers were standing at the end of the corridor, weapons in hand. The three she’d been talking to stepped quickly back, and when she glanced at them she saw the demon man with the gold insignia step through the door just beyond. He still had the dart gun, and he raised it slightly, trying to find a clear shot at her past the three office types.  
  
Dawn spun back to face the soldiers, eyes wide and pleading.  
  
“Help me! He’s a DemonRobotMonster and he’s trying to kill me! Please, help!”  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was behind them, and these new ones were startled for a long couple of seconds at the sight of a girl disappearing. Then, once they got over that, there was still the matter of the very large man in plain green coveralls aiming a gun straight at them....  
  
She hurried away, hoping the shouts and muffled impacts she heard meant she was finally rid of him.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Teal’c did his best to limit the injuries he inflicted upon the Tau’ri warriors, aided by their reluctance to use their firearms. Obviously General Hammond had been only partially successful in his efforts to inform those in the upper facility of the situation. Throwing the last of them down to lie groaning on the ground, he cast about, searching for the dart weapon which had been torn from his hands early in the encounter. Locating it, he discovered that the device, which was of relatively fragile construction, had been damaged, and was now useless. Tossing it aside, he threw himself into a run after the Goa’uld woman.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn could smell fresher air now, she was sure of it. Another short corridor, a turning, and a wide space with rough walls and ceiling that looked like they’d been chipped directly from the stone. There were three ways she could go, but one of them was wider, so she chose that and flickered past two groups of administrative types.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
Another hallway, this one looking almost like a real office building, with doors along either side and a large, bright space at the far end. Half a dozen of the soldiers were blocking her way, looking straight at her with guns ready. That wasn’t even an annoyance, so long as she could see past them.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
The shouts from behind told her that one of them had turned and caught sight of her. She ignored them, taking a second instead to scan the much larger space before her.  
  
It was a security area, a checkpoint, and a large and very well-equipped one, too. There were the usual white plastic arches that would beep an alert when you tried to carry metal through, and the chunky boxes with conveyer belts running through their innards that scanned packages and purses. Each end of the room had its own set of both, to handle both incoming and outgoing traffic, with a large security desk in the very center, where serious soldiers sat and practiced looking serious as they surveyed the proceedings. The entire place was divided into thirds by two walls of square panels that extended from floor to ceiling, each square measuring roughly three feet on a side. The clear walls had wide openings in them for people to pass through, with sliding sections that could close to isolate troublemakers from the other areas. On the far side of the space was another tunnel, this one the largest she’d seen yet, with some sort of huge, gleaming object at the other end that was too far away for her to see clearly.  
  
More shouts from came from behind her along with the squawk of a radio and a man’s voice yelling over the commotion.  
  
“No! No, he’s one of ours! Let him through!”   
  
She spun around, one hand coming up in automatic reflex to keep her hair from her face. The huge, bald, man-demon was there, running through the suddenly deferential soldiers, straight at her. The soldier in charge of the group, the one who’d shouted, was listening intently to the radio in his hand. As Dawn took a few quick steps back in reaction to the charging cyberdemon, the man looked up from his radio, eyes wide, and shouted past her.  
  
“Close it! Close everything! Seal the Mountain!”  
  
A shrill klaxon immediately began shrieking from overhead, and rows of blinking red lights flared to life along the two divider walls. The door panels set into them slid shut, cutting the room into three isolated sections. The demon, having ignored all of the activity, was nearly on her, and moving very fast.  
  
Dawn stood her ground, waited another half-second, stuck her tongue out at him, and--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She materialized about ten feet further back, just on the other side of the clear divider wall. He didn’t even try to stop, just adjusted his trajectory slightly to continue straight at her, then smashed headlong into the wall.  
  
The whole thing, from floor to ceiling and wall to wall  _\--shook--_ , and the crashing sound of the impact was like a bomb going off. The thick, bulletproof plastic held, and he took a step back, his fierce eyes locked on hers. He didn’t look hurt, or even especially angry, just frighteningly determined. Feeling uneasy, and unwilling to taunt him further despite the barrier between them, she turned away.  
  
Three of the soldiers had abandoned their central command desk thingy, and were moving towards her, guns drawn. She peered past them, through the second divider wall and the second set of arches, x-ray machines and security guards, and into the passage beyond. The giant shiny thing, which she still couldn‘t make out, was moving.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was there, as close as she’d dared come, about seventy feet down a concrete-lined tunnel. The slowly shifting mass of gleaming steel resolved itself, and she stared in awe at the biggest door she’d ever seen.  
  
It was a bank’s vault door, basically, only taller and wider than any bank had ever needed. The steel locking rods that held it in place when it was sealed were on her side, and there were a lot of them. It was swinging shut with the slow ponderousness one would expect of such a massive weight, with less than five feet of space left.  
  
 _Plenty of room, plenty of time.  
  
FlickerSNAP_  
  
She landed on the other side, blinked her eyes, frowned, and blinked her eyes again.  
  
She was still facing the inside of the door, watching it swing slowly shut. There was four feet of space remaining before it sealed itself, then three--  
  
Her head whipped around, looking behind her. There was the outside of the door; smooth and featureless. Whirling back, she saw that it was a second door, identical to the first, with just one foot of space remaining, and then--  
  
The door closed with a faint thud that vibrated up through her heels, and twenty-two locking rods as thick as her leg shot home, enmeshing the door with the concrete and stone on either side. An instant later the lights flickered out, and even the little glowing indicators beside the door went dark.  
  
Standing there in utter darkness, Dawn nibbled at her lower lip for a moment.  
  
 _I think I’m okay... I think. I saw a teeny little piece of the floor outside, just for a half-second. If that’s enough for me to reach it.…_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the Gate Control Room, they watched the video feed from the surface access tunnel. Looking at the featureless, armored face of the outer blast door, set in the wall of the large, main tunnel, they waited to see what would happen.  
  
“That door is designed to withstand a thirty-megaton blast,” Hammond said, staring at the screen with his arms folded. “If anything on this earth can stop her, it’s that.”  
  
Carter, hands resting helplessly in her lap, shook her head slightly.  
  
“Respectfully, sir, I doubt the size or composition of any physical object will have an effect. What it really comes down to is if she was able to get a look at the outer tunnel before it closed.”  
  
They watched, and waited, and--  
  
The girl blinked into view, just to one side of the door. Jack imagined he could hear the General’s teeth grinding.  
  
“That answers that,” he said, both to his superior and in answer to Carter‘s question. Then, staring at the screen in disbelief: “Aw, fer cryin’ out loud;  _really?!_ ”  
  
She was doing a victory dance.   
  
Right there, in front of Cheyenne Mountain’s very own front door, the girl had her arms over her head, twirling in place, her hair swinging and stylish boots pattering. Her ecstatic grin was clearly visible, even on the low-res camera image, and she only stopped dancing when four SF’s ran towards her, shouting. Taking a second to look in both directions, she picked one seemingly at random and vanished.  
  
Carter spoke.  
  
“It’s still over a third of a mile of tunnel before she reaches the surface. It’s possible she’ll be stopped before then.” Judging by her tone, even she didn’t believe that. Still, she gamely adjusted the monitor, sorting through the various camera feeds till she found the girl again--briefly.  
  
She was obviously tired; her weary trot was moving her along at barely more than a walking pace. It was, however, a walking pace where every step was followed by a flicker, each of which moved her another fifty yards down the long, gently curving tunnel. She was never in one spot longer than a second; barely enough time for the Airmen and SF’s in the passage to register her presence, much less do anything about it.  
  
Beside him, Daniel murmured softly.  
  
“Seven-league boots. Standard magical equipment for the hero or heroine in European folklore.”  
  
Jack gave him a sidelong glance.  
  
“Hero? It’s usually considered a bad thing to be rooting for the other team, Daniel.”  
  
The younger man looked up, then gave an unapologetic shrug.  
  
“Sorry. It’s just--She didn’t hurt anyone, Jack.” He did that thing he did when arguing a point where his emotions were engaged; an intent stare that unmistakably conveyed the depth of his conviction. “She blew through this entire base, bottom to top, and didn’t hurt a single person. What Goa’uld does that?”  
  
Jack didn’t have a good answer, but that didn’t keep him from trying out a few.  
  
“No idea. Maybe she didn’t have time. Maybe she forgot to change the batteries in her hand-zapper.”  
  
“She was in the  _armory_! If she wanted a weapon you don’t think she could have found a few?”  
  
Wincing, Jack thought about the cases of fragmentation and incendiary grenades in that room. Given what the girl could do, an armload of those could have inflicted devastating casualties throughout the SGC.  
  
“She’s out, sir,” Carter said, diverting his attention. On the screen they saw her blink into view at the open mouth of the main tunnel. It was still full night outside the Mountain, and by the time the guards stationed at the entrance saw her it was too late, and she was gone. Deftly flipping feeds, Carter managed to show them one last glimpse of her, standing at the vehicle checkpoint, illuminated by the yellow floodlights as she stared out through the tall chain-link fence.  
  
A moment later and there was no one there at all.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
She was out.  
  
She was  _out.  
  
She. Was. Out!_  
  
There were stars, and trees, and a road that she followed through the darkness in long, hundred-yard flickers that made everything move past her in stuttering jumps. Once there was a car that sort of surprised her as it came around a bend, headlights reaching for her there in the middle of the road, but she was beyond it and moving on before the driver had a chance to see her.  
  
Two minutes later, she stopped to rest at the edge of a steep drop-off, perching one hip on a guard rail as she caught her breath.  
  
 _Mountains; no wonder I’m so worn out. It‘s not just that I‘m out of shape; the air’s thinner than I‘m used to._  Tilting her head back, she looked at the stars, blazing brightly overhead.  _Pretty._  
  
And then, with no warning at all, she was crying, her hands and shoulders shaking, leaning forward with her hair spilling past her shoulders.  
  
 _I made it. I got away from them; first from Willow, and then from all of these other people too. They all tried to lock me away, and I beat them. Not Buffy, and not Spike, and not Faith. Me._  
  
She threw her head back and surged to her feet, turning to look back towards the mountain that loomed blackly against the sky.   
  
“You hear that? I  _beat_  you!  
  
She laughed, the tears running wetly down her cheeks till she wiped at them with her fingers, feeling better in that moment than she had in.... Well, than she had since the night on the tower.  
  
Turning back, she looked out over the lower slopes of the mountains that were visible from her vantage point. Out in the distance, miles and miles from where she stood, the lights of a Sunnydale-sized town were visible. Bouncing eagerly, she stared intently at them, trying to find something clear enough to serve as an arrival point. Spotting one that looked promising, she reached out, concentrating....  
  
 _Hmm. No good, but it doesn’t feel like I can’t do it. It’s more like I can’t quite reach.…_  
  
She pulled at the lake, still strong and deep and thrumming all around her. Her eyes tingled a bit more, which wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, and the world around her shaded into a thing of gleaming, emerald glass. She reached again, and this time her mental fingertips brushed against her destination.  
  
Dawn bounced a bouncy dance step or two of triumph, and laughed again.  
  
“Well, Miss witchy-Willow; looks like that whole ‘let’s lock away everything that makes Dawn special’ thing ended up being the biggest fail ever. Wherever this place is, I‘m not just special here. I am  _awesome_!”  
  
She twirled around once, hair flying, clicked her heels together three times, and the roadside flared with brilliant emerald light--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *


	3. Sort of like Diagon Alley?

After the hastily-convened staff meeting broke up, with the various officers streaming out of the conference room, Jack checked his watch. It was just over seventy minutes since the mysterious girl had first appeared in the Gate Room, and about fifty since she’d escaped from the Cheyenne Mountain complex.   
  
General Hammond had a few last words with two Lieutenants in full SF gear, then moved to join Jack by the observation window.   
  
“Well, everything we discussed is being implemented now,” the older man told him. “I’ve got every available man performing a room-by-room search, looking for any explosives or other devices the Goa’uld might have planted while she was in the complex. It’ll take time to do a full sweep, so we’re focusing first on the Armory, the power vault, and both the main and the backup computer cores.”  
  
“We’re gonna want to relocate every piece of ordinance from that armory,” Jack said, not feeling especially happy at the prospect. “It’s going to cause problems, but we can’t leave all that in there, when we know she can pop in any time she wants, grab something, and be gone again a second later.”  
  
Hammond nodded.  
  
“Agreed. Captain Carter is going through the security footage now, trying to determine exactly which rooms were penetrated. We’ll find somewhere the girl hasn’t seen to relocate the weapons, and I’ll assign a detail to stand guard until we‘ve dealt with the threat.”  
  
Jack eyed his superior doubtfully.  
  
“I’m not sure how we’re going to manage that, sir--’dealing‘ with her, I mean. It’s not like we can just call up the local cops or the FBI, give them her picture and turn them loose. Even if they find her, then what? They see her, they try to arrest her, and she disappears.” He paused, grimaced slightly, and then amended himself. “Actually, going by what she did to us earlier, it’s more like: They see her, try to arrest her, she laughs herself silly, dances around them for a while, and  _then_  disappears.”  
  
Hammond’s frown made it clear that he wasn’t happy about how foolish the girl had made them look, either.  
  
“Circumstances have changed, Colonel. Since her goal now appears to have been escaping this facility, I think we can rule out our theory that she’s a suicide bomber. Either she never had an explosive device in the first place--”  
  
“--Or she’s already left it here, and it’s going to blow up in our faces any minute,” Jack finished for him. Glancing through the armored glass of the observation window, he watched Master Sergeant Siler and another technician continue their painstaking examination of the Gate itself. They knew for a fact the girl had been in  _there_ , and the snakes had access to explosive devices capable of delivering an absurd amount of destructive power for their size. He nodded his agreement.  
  
“All right then. That means we can shoot her.” Even as he said it he realized he felt slightly uneasy at the idea, and something in his face must have conveyed that to his superior.  
  
“Do you have a problem with that, Colonel?” The older man’s tone made it clear that he was actually asking, not framing it as a reprimand, which Jack appreciated.  
  
“Honestly, sir... I’ve been wondering about what Daniel said. He’s got a point; Green-Eyes, whatever her name is... she could have hurt us.  _Badly_. And she didn’t.” Looking out at where Siler was perched atop a very high ladder, peering into every nook and cranny of the Gate ring, he shrugged. “Barring any imminent explosions, I mean.”  
  
Hammond looked thoughtful as he turned and walked back to the conference table. Reaching a decision, he looked back at O’Neill.  
  
“Very well. Prep your team. I’ll give you SG:3 as support. You’re authorized to take our captured Zat guns off-base to try and capture the hostile. If you can subdue her, then Doctor Frasier’s tranquilizer compound should keep her sedated while you transport her back here.”  
  
That sounded like a plan to Jack, though he couldn’t help giving Hammond a sidelong look.  
  
“Isn’t this going to cause a jurisdictional... thing?”  
  
The General gave him a tight smile.  
  
“Only if you get caught, Colonel. I’m calling in some favors with the local authorities; the moment anything peculiar happens within five hundred miles of here, they’ll let us know. So long as you and your people can keep a reasonably low profile, we  _might_ just manage this without anyone being the wiser.”  
  
Jack nodded.  
  
“Can do, sir. And I don’t think she’ll get five hundred miles. The one thing we  _did_  manage to do was wear her down. I’m betting she won’t get very far before she crashes for at least a few hours.”  
  
“I hope you’re right.” Hammond picked up a thick sheaf of papers from the table and headed towards his office. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to file my report. I’ve gotten three phone calls from the Pentagon in the last hour; the latest one from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”  
  
O’Neill winced slightly in sympathy.  
  
“I assume they’re not exactly happy with us right now?”  
  
“You assume right.” He disappeared into his office, leaving Jack to mull things over.  
  
At the very least, Daniel would be happy that they weren’t operating under ‘shoot to kill’ orders. A Zat blast was painful in the extreme, but it wasn’t lethal unless the target took multiple hits. As for Jack himself, he had mixed feelings on the matter. For one thing, Green Eyes had made them all look like a bunch of first-year Cadets, and that was not a feeling he enjoyed. On the other hand... the girl had taken on the entire Cheyenne Mountain complex, one of the crown jewels of the United States military. She’d done it alone, without suffering (or inflicting) so much as a bloody nose... and she’d  _won_. In Jack’s book that earned her a certain amount of respect.  
  
Not that he wouldn’t cheerfully shoot her in the face with a Zat the first chance he got, because he absolutely intended to do exactly that.   
  
What he was left wondering, as he headed down to locate his team, was: what exactly was Green Eyes after? She’d already been within arm’s length of the most sensitive part of their entire operation. What did that leave as a target? The White House? The United Nations? Some military or scientific installation that was beyond even his security clearance?  
  
Whatever it was, he was sure that it would be something of massive strategic importance....  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
After entirely too much searching, Dawn had  _finally_  managed to find a decent clothing store. ‘ _Trophy_ ’--assuming it was the same chain she remembered from her world--specialized in expensive, sexy clothes and accessories for the expensive and sexy younger women who married older and very wealthy men. Granted, other women could and did shop there too, but the theme of being sexy, being proud of it, and having a  _lot_  of cash to spend in order to flaunt it was reflected in nearly every piece of merchandise. All of that made it Dawn’s very favorite place in the world to shop, especially when money was such an easy thing for her to acquire. She would have been happy to give them some (stolen) money that very minute, but since it was a little after three in the morning, and she was broke, and she wanted some new clothes now, she was equally okay with stealing a few things from them.  
  
 _I need some sexy clothes, some clean clothes, but most importantly some_  warmer  _clothes._  She hugged herself tightly and tried to control her shivering. The signs on various businesses she’d seen said that this was Colorado Springs, which certainly fit with the huge mountains and thin air. What she hadn’t realized at first was how it would affect the temperature. Once she’d cooled down from the unaccustomed exertion of the long chase up and out of the secret base, she’d quickly discovered that her white lace mini-dress wasn’t at all suitable for nighttime in the Rockies. It was also too distinctive an outfit; she didn’t dare go into an all-night diner or whatever to get warm while in the same clothes the military people had seen her wearing.  
  
 _So, I need clothes first, then a Hotel room, then some money--no, wait_.” She stamped her feet, trying to keep her toes from freezing solid... not to mention her bare legs, not to mention everything else.  _I’m not the world’s best planner even when I’m not busy freezing to death, but I need to do this right the first time or else they’ll find me_. With her arms folded and her shoulders hunched forward, she paced back and forth across the front of the alley.  
  
 _Okay, if I get the Hotel first, I’ll have somewhere to put the clothes; I can’t just walk up the front desk with an armload of things, price tags and all still on them. So--room first--Ack, no! I can’t get a room without money. Money first, then room, then clothes...._  Her teeth were chattering, and the tip of her nose and ears were most of the way to being numb.  _No, silly Dawnie, that’s not right--you need to change clothes before you get the room. And I’ll need money for the room, too. So that means... room last, with the money and the clothes before that, but I’ll need something to carry the money, which I can get from the same place as the clothes_. She nodded to herself, only a tiny bit uncertainly.  _That just means I’ll need to find a good place to stash the extra clothes while I do the other things. After I get the room, I can jump back to where I hid them and bring everything back; easy!_  
  
She glanced up and down the street, which remained nicely deserted. Although the town was actually quite a bit larger than she’d first thought, most of it seemed to close down completely after midnight. From where she stood in the shadows of a narrow alleyway there wasn’t anyone else in sight, save for the occasional passing car.  
  
 _God, I hope there aren’t any vampires here. That’s more than I can deal with right now._  She turned in place, trying to decide on a good place to hide her soon-to-be-acquired loot.  _How about... this way._  
  
FlickerSNAP  
  
She was two blocks further down the street, more or less on the edge of the downtown core of the city. Looking along the cross street she could see there were at least a couple of bars that were still open, with more than a few people outside smoking or walking to or from their cars. That kind of activity was exactly what she didn’t want, so she jumped further along, towards the Eastern side of the city.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
Fast-food restaurants and some of the gas stations were still open, basically every other sort of small business imaginable was closed and dark.   
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She found a smallish city park that looked like it would be nice during the day, but nothing on Earth would make her go into such an obvious hunting ground at night. Vampires and demons loved places like that; if they existed here, that was exactly the kind of place she’d be sure to find them.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She saw two young men in their teens or twenties, spray painting graffiti across the back of a pizza place. When she appeared, she was less than thirty feet away from the nearest one. He must have heard her, or seen the faint green light that heralded her arrival, because he started to turn--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
A corner pharmacy, part of a national chain that she’d seen in lots of other towns. They carried everything from shampoo to snacks to alarm clocks, and every one of them looked exactly the same, right down to the late-middle-aged men and women who worked there.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
An elementary school, the edge of a suburb, a bank. She paused for a few seconds to fix that last one in her memory before moving on.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
A sprawling MegaStore, the sort that sold twenty kinds of  _everything_ , was open all day and all night, every day of the year, and whose low prices were only possible because of large-scale child labor in Asia. Even so, she would have loved to go in and get warm while wandering the aisles, but there were security cameras everywhere in there, and even at this hour there would be plenty of people to see and remember her.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
A car was turning the corner just exactly when she appeared, its headlights sweeping across the spot on the curb where she wasn’t, she was, and she wasn’t again, all in three quick beats. She wondered if rumors of a beautiful ghost-girl wandering the streets would soon be whispered back and forth among the city’s gossips and storytellers.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She found a section of town that seemed more run-down than most; with several empty storefronts displaying ‘for lease’ signs in their windows. She stopped, looked around, and walked up to one of them, still hugging herself tight against the cold. Peering in through the smudged glass, she saw a dim, open space, with pretty much nowhere for anything threatening to be lying in wait for her.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
It had been a florist before it had gone out of business, and there were still few forlorn vases scattered about, holding nothing but withered sticks now. Small black things crunched beneath her shoes as she looked around, and she nearly vanished from sheer revulsion at the thought of what they might be. Biting her lip, she waved one hand through the crystalline power surrounding her, waking an eerie glow that illuminated the room in shades of emerald.  
  
 _Flower petals_ , she decided, peering down at the floor.  _It’s just dried-up flower petals, not crunchy bugs_. Raising her hand, she located a glass display case. It was empty of course, but most importantly it was clean except for a light film of dust. Dawn took a long look at it, and at the room in general, before nodding.  
  
 _Good. This is good... which is fantastic because I am_  freezing _!_  
  
She let the light fade, and tucked her shaking hands beneath her arms. Closing her eyes, she visualized the sidewalk in front of the trendy clothing store.   
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
When she opened her eyes,  _Trophy_  was there, the glittery storefront somehow managing to convey the same smug superiority as its clientele. Dawn repeated her entry method from before; peering in through the front glass, finding a clear spot, and--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She looked around, took a breath, and groaned happily as the warmth of the interior washed over her.  
  
“Oh my god.  _Finally_.”  
  
Even a few seconds of warmth made a huge difference, with what felt like every muscle in her body unclenching at once. She sighed, looked around, and smirked at the discreet panel mounted near the front doors. Several little blinking lights were glowing an angry red, and she knew what that meant.  
  
 _Silent alarm, hooked up to the motion detectors I just set off_. Turning her back and walking deeper into the store, she feigned an elaborate yawn, delicately patting at her open mouth with her fingers.   
  
 _Oh dear, oh my, the awful police will be here soon; however shall I escape them?_  She grinned, bouncing her way along the racks and racks of clothes.  _Gee, I wonder how; ha! Now, I’ve only got a few minutes, so lets get shopping._  
  
Jeans were easy; she knew her favorite (obscenely expensive) designer brand, and when she found the display she grabbed one each of her two usual sizes. (She had to get two sizes because the stretch denim fit so snugly that even a small weight fluctuation of one or two pounds meant the smaller ones would be  _too_  small. It was a little annoying, but the way they showed off her legs and behind made it absolutely worth the extra trouble.) It occurred to her that she might as well get an extra set while she was there, so she grabbed two more pairs, and tucked them beneath her arm.  
  
The cold weather here had surprised her, so she quickly sorted through a selection of cashmere sweaters. The rejected ones got tossed on the floor in a careless pile, which grew to a fair size before she found two that she liked; one black, and one a blue-green shade that matched her eyes. Those, added to the jeans made for an armful, so she bundled them up and stuffed them into one of the trendy cloth bags the store helpfully provided, complete with their logo stenciled across the side. Taking a few more of the bags, Dawn wandered down the aisles.  
  
 _I like this, and this... oh come on, would anyone really wear that?_    
  
She got herself some underthings; not quite as sexy as Victoria’s Secret would have offered, but these were a good blend of sexiness and comfort. There were lots of outfits that approached the boundaries of good taste (and quite a few that skipped merrily past those boundaries); she tried to stay within the bounds of reason, but in at least one case she couldn’t help herself.  
  
 _Japanese schoolgirl style? Okay, I_ must  _take this; there really isn’t other option_. In part because of her shame over that lapse in judgment, she found a dark skirt that was almost modest... and then went the other way again with a strapless top that would fit her like a second skin, all in sparkly green. Knowing that the clock was ticking, she still had to find a mirror so that she could hold it up against her to see how it looked. That wasn’t a difficult task; the store catered to attractive people who were obsessed with their looks; there were probably fifty mirrors scattered about. Dawn stepped in front of the nearest, raised the top... and stared at herself in shock.  
  
Her eyes....  
  
She was used to people complimenting her on her eyes. The blue/green color was striking, and so pure and clear that the old cliché about ‘bottomless pools a man could drown in’ was more than simple flattery in her case; they really  _were_  that beautiful. Even so, the one thing no one had ever said about her eyes was that they were ‘glowy’.  
  
Well, now they were.  
  
Glowing; shimmering greenly back at her from the mirror, they looked unsettlingly like something one would find on a demon, not a harmless little Cosmic Artifact in human form like herself.  
  
 _That looks so odd_ , she thought, leaning in close. Looking at herself looking back at herself, Dawn realized that she’d been maintaining her connection to the power lake this entire time; ever since her escape from the mountain. The tingling rush of energy pouring through her felt so normal, so natural, that it hadn’t even occurred to her to close it down when she didn’t need it to power her blinking.  
  
She did so now; shutting it off, closing her link to that vast reservoir of power. Her eyes faded to their normal, human appearance and she sighed with relief--and squeaked in surprise when her knees folded, dropping her awkwardly to the floor.  
  
 _What--?_  Dawn struggled to keep her eyes open, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Her legs and butt ached fiercely from all the running she’d done, and a bone-deep weariness wrapped itself around her like a dark, comforting blanket urging her to sleep.... She opened herself to the power, pulling the clean, vibrant force in and drinking it down like the world’s most wonderful sports drink. The aches faded, and the overwhelming tiredness was pushed back. It was still there, lurking around the edges of things, but with the lake’s energy thrumming through her she could ignore it for now. Climbing to her feet, she brushed off her hands and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders, peeking again at the glowing eyes that looked out at her from the reflection.   
  
 _Okay then, I’ll just have to leave them that way for now._  She titled her head a little, then turned it from side to side, examining herself from various angles.  _Besides, they don’t look_  bad,  _just... different. Exotic, even._  She went back to filling up her bags, not without frequent glances at her reflection in various mirrors.  
  
She located and promptly plundered the makeup counter; taking one of everything she typically used, plus several handfuls of various things she’d seen before and hadn’t yet gotten around to buying or stealing. Two overnight bags by a famous designer were next, one to hold the makeup items and one to hold some random tops on display nearby (She loved the one that read  _‘I’m NOT a Brat! I’mNotI’mNotI’mNot!’_ ) A row of glass cases caught her eye, and she touched the heavy locks while calling on the Key. When they obediently opened, she happily started piling items on the counter; rings and bracelets, necklaces and belly rings, waist chains and earrings, all in gold and silver. Her greed was well and truly out of control by that point, and it came as a shock when the red and blue lights strobed through the interior of the store.  
  
Dawn looked up, startled, and saw the outlines of two men silhouetted against the front window, even as another police cruiser arrived.  
  
 _Oops, gotta move_. She scooped up a few of the more interesting bits of jewelry, dropped them into her bags, then carried them back to where the rest of her haul was piled. Along the way she spotted the shoe section, and realized she had nothing in the way of footwear except for what she was wearing.  
  
 _I have time to grab one pair, no problem. Hmm...._  Easing down to kneel on the richly-carpeted floor, she began sorting through low maze of tasteful displays. She found some nice ones she liked, was immediately diverted when she glimpsed a second pair that were even nicer, and spent longer than she’d meant searching for a pair in her size. A sound from the front of the store made her peek cautiously around the corner. The front door was open, and a large policeman was standing there, one hand holding a flashlight and the other resting on his holstered gun. There were several others visible behind him, and when their radios squawked at a nearly deafening volume Dawn let out a startled little sound.  
  
 _No more time, Dawnie, go now--ohmygod! They’ve got Christian Louboutin here!_  She grabbed for the red-soled stilettos, checked the size, whined softly in frustration and tried the next pair on the shelf.  _Yes!_  Scuttling away on her hands and knees, trying to hang on to everything at once while moving both quickly and quietly, she still managed to hug the shoes to her like a mother cradling her infant child.  _Mine! All mine!_  
  
“Check there,” came a man’s voice, sounding tense and dangerous. “Bern, there, Rico, back there.”  
  
She could see spots of bright light sweeping back and forth as they used their flashlights to check each aisle as they moved deeper into the store. Hurrying as best as she could she reached the small pile of stuffed bags she’d stashed towards the back. Dropping her latest finds atop the rest, she heaved a sigh of relief, wrapped her arms around the entire mound of treasure and--  
  
 _Flicker--_  
  
 _“Ow!”_  She couldn’t help saying it out loud, though she did manage to keep it to a pained whisper. The jump had  _tried_  to happen, but there’d been a wrenching that had pulled her back before she was really gone, much like trying to pull something along by a rope, and only realizing how massively heavy it was when your arm was nearly pulled from its socket.  
  
 _Too much? Come on, it’s not_  that  _much. I just need to try harder._  
  
She pulled hard at the lake; so much so that her teeth felt like they were buzzing, and she could see the glow of her eyes reflected faintly from the pile of fabric bags in front of her. She tried again, focusing intently on the abandoned florist’s shop. A scuff came, the sound entirely too close to where she was hiding. She saw a shape step around the corner, practically on top of her, and the beam of his flashlight swept towards--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was there; dimness, silence, an empty shop and the smell of dust in her nostrils, small pile of bags lying before her....  
  
 _Wait._  She got down from where she‘d arrived, kneeling atop the counter, looked at the bags, and felt a sharp, twisting pain in her middle.  _Some of them didn’t come. The bag with my jeans--the bag with my SHOES!_  
  
FlickerSNAP  
  
Back in the store, noise of radios, men’s voices, and a policeman standing right there, his flashlight centered on the bag and the two pairs of shoes lying in the floor. She saw him wince and squeeze his eyes shut for a half-second, and realized that the longer her jump the brighter the accompanying light effects became. Not that it affected him for more than an instant. He blinked twice, saw her right in front of him, crouching there in her sexy, slightly smudged dress and boots, put his hand on his gun and gave her a  _very_  stern sort of stare.  
  
“Stay where you are, and show me your hands!” His sharp voice caught the attention of his fellows, elsewhere in the store, and she saw their flashlight beams move over her head, finding him but missing her where she was crouched below the level of the clothing racks. Gathering the dropped items to her slowly, so as not to startle him, she grinned a sudden, impish grin. In a very soft, whispery voice she half-sang to him:  
  
 _“Theeeeey won’t belieeeeeeeve youuuuu!”_  
  
His mouth opened, probably to give her more orders.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
Dawn erupted in fits of giggles so intense she barely managed to set her things down with the rest on top of the counter. When that awful night two years earlier had left her Key powers partially activated, she’d thought that was a huge piece of good fortune; maybe even the universe’s way of trying to balance the scales a little. Her sister had been taken from her, she’d been left completely alone, but at least with her Key magicks she could make her own way in the world. This, though, was even  _better._  
  
 _I can have anything,_  she thought to herself, eyes wide with wondering realization.  _Anything I need, I can take. Anything I want, I can have. ANYTHING!_  
  
It was.... She really had no idea what it was. Amazing? Terrifying? Insane? Gleeful laughter kept trying to bubble out of her, carried along by the rush of the lake’s power pouring endlessly through her. She did her best to quiet it down as she began setting out a few things where she could get to them. As incredible as it all was, the air around her was still ridiculously chilly, and one thing her powers could not do was warm her against the cold. Still, she couldn’t quite keep the smile from her lips as she pulled off her dress, tugged a sweater on in its place, and began working her way into a set of very tight, very expensive jeans.  
  
  
* * * * *


	4. Falling off the edge of the world

The Eastern edge of the pre-dawn sky was just beginning to show the slightest hints of purple and pink as the SGC personnel arrived at the site of the ‘strange happening’ relayed to them by the Colorado Springs police. SG:1 had a pair of plain blue Crown Victoria’s, and the members of SG:3 had split their ten-man squad of Marines between two mini-vans, which were loaded with an array of weapons and body armor; just in case.  
  
Jack climbed out from behind the wheel of his car, with Carter exiting on her side. He waved the Marine vehicles on before turning to look at the clothing store; they’d already discussed search patterns, and he held out some small hope that they would find Green Eyes wandering the streets, hopelessly lost and bewildered by this alien place without her accustomed Jaffa entourage. Jackson and Teal’c got out of their car, and the four of them approached the police officers on the scene.  
  
“Good morning,” he offered by way of greeting. He and Carter both raised their Air Force credentials to the one who looked to be in charge of things. “I think your boss told you we were on our way. I’m Agent Mulder,” he nodded at Carter. “This is Agent Scully. I hear one of your guys thinks he saw something... weird?”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Daniel stayed back while Jack talked to the officer, listening to the shaken man relate his encounter with the disappearing girl. From the way he related what he’d seen, the man was seriously questioning his own sanity. And, even though they all seemed outwardly supportive, his fellow officers were obviously having some doubts about him as well. Once he’d heard the basics of the man’s story, he walked inside the store, Teal’c at his side. Daniel had to flash his ID twice before they got to the island of glass display cases that lay at the center of the establishment. The store owner; an extremely attractive and well-dressed woman with long red hair, was speaking agitatedly with another officer.  
  
“I just don’t understand it,” she was saying to him; exquisitely-manicured hands tugging absently at the dangling ends of her scarf. “No one without a card key could have gotten inside like that. And if one of my people  _did_  use their card to break in, why didn’t they turn off the alarm?”  
  
From a distance he scanned the various bits of jewelry that lay scattered across the open cases, then turned to look at several spots where clothing had been discarded in careless piles on the floor. Teal’c, for his part, was eyeing the entire shop with a disapproving frown.  
  
“This is most strange,” he said slowly, eyes flicking from one place to the next. Daniel stepped closer to him, so they could speak without the police overhearing.  
  
“How so?”  
  
The Jaffa considered a moment, and when he replied he was obviously choosing his words with care.  
  
“While it would not surprise me to see a female Goa’uld dressed in... garments... such as these, it does not seem likely that one would bother with such things while pursuing a serious objective. To expend so much time and effort to obtain clothing, cosmetics and jewelry does not match their typical behavior.”  
  
Daniel glanced at various displays nearby, took a second to wonder who would be willing to pay twelve hundred dollars for a pair of sunglasses, then looked back to his friend.  
  
“So I guess you’re saying, if she’d broken into someplace to steal weapons or technology, sure, but short skirts and sparkly nail-polish not so much?”  
  
Teal’c nodded.  
  
“Indeed. Such behavior as this is... frivolous. And even though the Goa’uld are often petty and spiteful, they are seldom frivolous. At least, not in so childish a way as this.”  
  
Looking to the front of the store, where the tall officer was still talking to Jack and Samantha, he cocked his head thoughtfully.  
  
“I see what you mean. That policeman saw her. He was face to face with her, and all she did was tease him. From what we’ve seen of the Goa’uld, he should have been ‘ribboned’, with one of those hand devices till his head exploded. Or at the very least had his neck broken, as punishment for interrupting her.” He returned his attention to the big man in the stocking cap. “I wonder if this  _is_ one of the Nox? If they go through the same kind of rebellious teen stage as humans, maybe it looks something like this?”  
  
Teal’c, apparently not deeming such speculation worthy of a reply, returned to his examination of the store’s contents.  
  
“C’mon kids!” Jack called from the front. “We’ve got places to be, let’s go.” The two of them moved to rejoin O’Neill and Carter, and when they were outside by their cars Jack continued.  
  
“I just got a call from Hammond; they haven’t turned up any bombs or signs of damage to the Gate, so they think they’re okay for SG:5 to dial home in a few minutes... which is a good thing, since we can’t call out to tell them  _not_  to without dialing the Gate anyway.” All of them automatically looked towards the Southwest, where the cluster of low peaks that housed the SGC was clearly visible. Cheyenne Mountain was less than ten miles from the heart of Colorado Springs; a fact that had worried a lot of people during the height of the Cold War. If a Goa’uld weapon  _was_  concealed there.... O’Neill turned to them with a helpless little shrug, and went on.  
  
“Anyway, we’ve got some more reports coming in. Some of ‘em are probably just normal, everyday weirdness, but a couple of them might be our Green-Eyed Goa--” He stopped in mid word, gave a slight grimace, and rephrased. “Our Green-Eyed  _Girl_.” Daniel felt a little more of the tension in his shoulders ease. No matter how much he pretended otherwise, Jack was nobody’s fool. He was perfectly capable of putting together the clues, and realizing that there was something going on here they did not understand. That gave him hope that whoever the stranger was, they would end this by  _talking_  to her, not shooting.  
  
Samantha, who’d been listening with half her attention while rapidly texting on her phone, looked up.  
  
“The CSPD is reporting a robbery of a bank’s ATM. They estimate the time at about thirty-five minutes ago, which is about ten minutes after the police arrived here.”  
  
Jack nodded.  
  
“Sounds about right, and hey, since she’s stealing clothes and shoes, why not pull a bank robbery too? All right, let’s go take a look.” With a smirk at Samantha, he turned to get into the car. “Come on, Scully, this alien won’t find herself.” She gave him a longsuffering look that made Daniel smile as he headed to his own vehicle. He was, all in all, desperately relieved that there hadn’t been any injuries or deaths so far. His instinct about the girl was that she wasn’t any sort of threat. He only hoped that he was right, and that there wasn’t anything sinister hiding beneath that pretty face.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn was utterly and completely evil.  _Eeeeeevilllllll_.  
  
Or at least her reflection in the mirror looked that way, with her eyes all glowy and her hair poofed up and billowing around her as she worked with hair dryer and comb. A long, hot shower had been the first order of business, once she’d found a suitably empty Hotel suite to claim as her own, with only a very brief delay while she jumped back out to a silent and dark corner pharmacy to grab some decent shampoo, a comb and a hairdryer. Now, feeling  _much_  better, she wondered if she would ever have to stand in a checkout line again.  
  
 _I did_  try  _to pay for the room at least_ , she told the Dawn in the mirror, just the slightest bit defensively.  _Is it my fault that they won’t let you check in to a nice place without seeing your credit card? That stupid girl at the counter_  made  _me break in. It’d serve her right if I trashed the whole place, and left a note saying it was all because of her_.  
  
She switched the blowdryer to her other hand, pulling her hair forward past the opposite shoulder and combing though it carefully while blasting it with air and heat.  
  
 _Okay, no, getting her fired would be bad. Totally deserved... but bad. I think all that caffeine is making me crazy._  
  
Three jumbo-sized cans of ‘HyperDrive’ energy drink were perched on the tiled counter, courtesy of yet another quick jaunt for supplies. She’d downed all three of them right after her shower, hoping they would make some kind of dent in her fatigue. And they had done that, to some extent. Unfortunately, when she closed herself off from the crystalline purity of the energy lake, her sore legs and backside were so stiff and painful that she’d had to turn it right back on.   
  
“Not a big deal,” she said out loud, shutting off the hairdryer and setting it aside. “Just call me ‘spooky eyes’ Dawnie; all around supercriminal, mistress of Eeeeeevillllll!”  
  
She grinned at her reflection, turned out the light, and walked back out into her suite. The fact that she was ‘stealing’ her room hadn’t actually had any effect on which room she’d taken; either way she had wanted the best they had. The luxury suite was five rooms; a spacious foyer, living room complete with very comfy couch and chair arrangement and a very large television, bedroom, and two very nice bathrooms, a small one off the living room and a much bigger one that connected to her bedroom. There was even a large balcony accessible from the living room; past a wall of glass and a sliding door, that looked out on a spectacular view of the mountains from fifteen stories up.  
  
Dawn walked into the bedroom, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, and gazed speculatively at the bed. The lower third was covered in money; a messy blanket of green bills that formed a lovely (if smallish) snowdrift atop the comforter. She sighed, and sat down, and trailed her hand through it as she thought about what to do next.  
  
 _Firstly, I need to sleep. I know I should be getting as far away as I can, as fast as I can, but I’m soooo tired_. The energy pouring into her was providing a bright, false vitality that was keeping her awake and functional, but she couldn’t keep that up forever. Her nerves were starting to feel raw, and her thoughts kept trying to flit in aimless, endless circles.  _Okay, so: sleep. And when I wake up, I need to get out of this town. The airport, I guess?_  She knew they had an airport here; the planes were clearly visible as they landed and took off, off to the East. She had an uneasy feeling about doing something so predictable, and wondered if the military types would be watching for her there. She looked down at the money pile, and managed a little smile, even through her tiredness. _At least the bank machines are the same here as they are at home; no problem at all to make them empty themselves out for me_. Sure, it was all in twenties, but that still gave her something like fifteen thousand dollars. There would have been even more, if not for the young man who’d interrupted her withdrawal.  
  
 _How was I supposed to know he’d be that obsessive about his stupid spray paint? It’s not like he didn’t have lots more--_  
  
Something passed through her; something passed through the  _world_ , like the ringing of multiple bells... if each bell were as big as a sports stadium. Dawn gasped at the sensation, as her entire being resonated in sympathy with the metaphysical vibrations... and then she gasped again, more softly, as her entire body was wreathed in green light.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“Gate Activation. Right on schedule for the P3X-461 mission, sir.”  
  
Hammond nodded, watching as the illuminated portions of the Stargate flared to life, and the entire structure was lit in the backwash of light from the forming event horizon. The metallic iris that kept unwanted visitors from emerging from an active wormhole was in place, and would stay that way until they received the proper coded radio signal from the other side. Which, god willing, they should be getting any second now....  
  
“Signal received; SG:6 Gate code verified.”  
  
Hammond relaxed, though the security teams at the foot of the ramp didn’t lower their guns. There had been instances of transmitters stolen, or codes forced from captives.  
  
“Open the iris,” He ordered. Along with everyone else present, he watched the shield spiral open, and waited for their explorers to return home.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Scrambling off the bed, Dawn backed away, barefoot, her arms stretched out before her as she tried to understand what was happening. An aura of light, as pure and shining as what lay at the very heart of her, was clinging to every inch of her form, from bare toes to the tips of her hair. Eyes wide and tingling with energy, Dawn stared, mesmerized by what she saw.  
  
The lake, the enormous pool of power that interpenetrated everything in this place, that lay vast, and deep and still all around her... was  _moving_. The whole, nearly infinite mass of... whatever it was she was visualizing as crystalline water, was in motion. The overall speed of it (if ‘speed’ had any meaning here, which she doubted) was quite slow, like the flow of a wide, deep river. Within that, however, she could see endless numbers of swirling currents and overlapping ripples that formed multi-layered patterns that made her tired mind ache... and her heart break from the sheer beauty of it. She turned around and around, drinking in the sight, while her body thrummed in tune with the music of sustained tones that were too deep to hear, and too powerful for something as ephemeral as mere air to carry.  
  
She looked at her hands again, wrapped in a shimmering sheath of cool emerald fire. She could see how the light was being caused by the interaction of the suddenly turbulent power around her with the energies of her Key self. And, again, she was struck by how that power welcomed her. The Key, though it was infinitesimally small in comparison, was still very strong, and having such a thing in the midst of all that active energy could have caused an enormous disruption. Instead, the shining light and tapestry of ancient forces that were her true self were, somehow, in perfect resonance with it all. She was, without having the slightest notion of how, ‘singing’ the same sustained chord as the whole of the swirling lake, just many octaves higher.  
  
 _It’s so beautiful...._  
  
Dazed, though very much aware of what was happening, she walked into the next room. The glass door opened at her touch, and she stepped out onto the balcony. The sun would be rising soon; there was a pronounced lightening of the sky, and the first beginnings of traffic in the streets below.  
  
None of that penetrated, not when the entire sky was filled with silvery fire.  
  
In utter silence, even as the entire universe shivered in sympathetic vibration to those impossible bell-notes that yet sounded, endlessly echoing, she stared up at the whole impossibly vast, incredibly complex field of energy as it slowly rotated in all its radiant glory. Tears streaming down her face, Dawn stared westward, towards the mountains that housed the military’s underground fortress. That was the center; she could see a complex aurora of concentric circles turning above it, like an intricate pinwheel of concentrated moonlight and half-real dreams, and she could  _feel_  something there, deep beneath those mountains.   
  
 _The donut_ , she realized suddenly, the sharp realization penetrating her dazed mind.  _That’s the center, this is what it does._  She frowned, even then, even at that moment, because as soon as she had the thought she instinctively knew that it was wrong.  _No, this isn’t all coming from that little ring of metal. They’re connected, yes, I can feel that much, but.... It’s more the other way around, I think. This, all of this that I’m seeing--this is the object, or artifact, or whatever. The donut... that’s almost an afterthought. It’s like an anchor for a ship, or a frame that’s there to hold the painting on the wall, not the painting itself. It’s just a way for this thing to touch the physical world._  Her frown deepened as she remembered the room that overlooked the ring. There had been consoles, and buttons and lots of lights and little switches....   
  
 _They can control it, at least a little. I wonder if they can really make it do anything, or is it just like a baby, banging his fist on a computer keyboard and laughing when he manages to make the screen change by accident?_  
  
She looked down at the city, took a deep breath, and shut down her connection to the power. Everything around her faded, faded, and was gone, leaving only the dim, predawn sky overhead and the faint noises of traffic from far below. Dawn leaned heavily on the railing as her exhaustion dragged at her, and felt an intense sadness for all the people of this city, blind and deaf to what was happening just beyond the world they could see. She noticed that her aura had faded too, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open.  
  
 _So tired...._  
  
She opened herself to the lake once more, felt herself revive, wiggled her glowing fingers before her eyes to watch the aura shift and flow along them, and looked up at the sky, just to drink in the sight of it.  
  
 _It does_ something,  _okay, I get that. I just kind of wish I knew_  exactly  _what it does... and what those guys are doing with it._  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hammond watched as SG:6 emerged from the rippling pool of light that filled the Stargate. They looked somewhat the worse for wear; a testament to the dense jungles of P3X-461. Still, they were all alive and essentially intact after five days on an alien world, which was a testament to their skill, courage, and training, and he felt a fierce pride as they made their way down the ramp. Looking down at the senior technician on duty, he raised his eyebrows in inquiry.  
  
“Well, sergeant? Is there any sign of a malfunction or tampering?”  
  
Sergeant Walter Harriman took a long second to double-check his readings before looking up and shaking his head.  
  
“Negative, sir; everything is right on the mark, no deviations from the established levels for this connection.”  
  
Hammond gave a slow nod of satisfaction.  
  
“Very well. Resume normal Gate operations. We’ll keep a security team stationed in the Gate room at all times, with another on standby, but I see no reason not to proceed with our schedule otherwise.” He glanced at the board to his right. “SG:2 is due to leave for P7J-898 in thirty minutes. Notify me if any of your readings change before then.”  
  
He waited another few moments, till the gate shut down and the Gate’s event horizon vanished, then headed back to his office.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
After only a minute or two, the activity ended as suddenly as it had begun. As Dawn watched, the aurora over the mountains faded, and the stately, swirling rotation of the vast energy pool slowed, slowed, and stopped. She could see how the smaller whirls, currents, and pockets of turbulence stilled themselves too, though she had a nagging feeling that it wasn’t as simple as that. The patterns she’d seen there, the outer edges of a complexity too deep for her to really comprehend, didn’t just cease--she glimpsed something there, almost like they were  _folding_  themselves back into smoothness instead of disappearing into nothing. The soundless tolling of those vast bells faded, as did her green aura, and there was nothing left except the still lake and the soft, almost subliminal thrumming as it returned to its patient waiting.  
  
The mountain peaks to the west gleamed with orange light as the first rays of the rising sun touched them, and Dawn yawned, turning to go back inside.  
  
 _That was unreal. Or possibly realer than real. Maybe both. I think I‘m too tired to tell the difference_. She yawned again, stumbling through the large room, through the doorway into her almost equally-large bedroom. Without bothering to take off her bathrobe she aimed herself at the bed, shut away her link to the power pool’s energies, and fell face-first into the softness of the mattress. She was lying in her money, but that was perfectly fine. She smiled, eyes closed, and moved her arms in a feeble swimming motion before rolling onto her side and hugging an armful of bills against her. A long, gentle sigh, and she let herself drift.  
  
 _This has been a very strange morning. Wonderful, and scary in parts, but mostly just strange. Really... really... str...._  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“--An’ I’m tellin’ you, it  _wasn’t_  me! There was this girl here, and she had these freakazoid  _eyes!_  An’ the machine was  _pourin’_  out money, into this bag she was holding, right? So I said ‘Hey, babe: what the hell?!’, right? And she  _looks_  at me, and grabs up the bag of cash, and then she’s  _gone!_  Not run away, not hiding, just  _gone!_ ”  
  
Samantha followed along with some small part of her attention as the handcuffed young man with the skateboarder haircut and excessively baggy clothing babbled his story to Colonel O’Neill. The rest of her focus was on the Automated Teller Machine that had been targeted by the mystery girl. There was no visible damage, but the device had obviously been compromised. When Samantha gave a random button an experimental push, she was rewarded with a handful of bills spewing from the delivery slot. A push of a different button produced the same result. On the small video screen that usually featured an options menu for using the machine, lines of gibberish flashed over and over again.  
  
“And you saw all of this because you happened to be strolling by?” O’Neill asked.  
  
“Hey, I already  _told_  these guys! I was way down the street, tagging that pizza place, minding my own business, an’ I’ve got my paint on the ground right behind me while I’m workin’, right? And there’s this green flash, like a camera or something goin’ off, and I turn around and there’s  _another_  flash right in my face, and by the time I can see there’s nothing there.  _And_  one of my cans is gone!”  
  
She pulled the bills from the slot, and, under the careful eye of two watching policemen, placed them in a clear bag that already held a thick stack of them. One of the officers took the money from her with a courteous nod. She returned to her examination of the machine, this time looking at the clear glass pane that protected the security camera that was part of the unit. Usually that camera would provide images of anyone who had made a withdrawal. In this case, however, she doubted that would be the case, as the transparent cover plate was liberally covered in florescent orange spraypaint.   
  
Behind her, O’Neill continued his questioning.  
  
“And you walked down here because you wanted your paint back?”  
  
“Well... yeah. I mean, I was looking around, wondering if somebody was messing with me, and I hear somebody drop the can on the ground. It’s all quiet then, so it really carries, right? An’ I  _know_  what it sounds like when you drop a can on the ground.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“So I sort of wander down this way, looking around, ready to kick the  _shit_  outta whoever ran off with my stuff, only when I get close I hear all these beeps, like somebody’s going nuts with pressing the buttons on this money thing like, two hundred times in a row or something.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Samantha noted the spraycan, already bagged and tagged, among the evidence the police were boxing for transport.  
  
“Yeah, and I come around the corner and there she is!  
  
“The girl.”  
  
“Yeah! And dude, she’s this  _sexy_  little thing, in these skin-tight jeans and stuff, an’ she’s got this long, sexy hair, an she’s  _stuffing_ money in this bag. So I say ‘Hey, babe: what the--”  
  
“’--Hey, babe: what the hell,’ yes, we established that.”  
  
“Yeah! Well, I say that, an’ she looks at me, an’ those  _eyes_  are like,  _monster_  eyes or somethin’, you know, from a Freddie or Jason movie? An’ I freak the hell out, thinkin’ she’s gonna eat my freakin’  _soul_  or somethin’, but all she does is take that bag of money and--”  
  
“Disappear?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“All right, I think that’s all I need from you. Officer? A word?”  
  
Having completed her survey of the scene, Samantha turned to see Jack in quiet conversation with one of the policemen, and the hapless witness being led to one of their patrol cars.  
  
“Some kind of crazy story, huh?” the man said, shaking his head. “This sort will say damn near anything, even when we catch them red-handed, like this guy. He was standing there with money in his hand when the unit pulled up, and he’s  _still_  sticking to that idiotic story about--”  
  
“Let him go.” The policeman looked at him uncomprehendingly, and O’Neill gave a small shrug. “Or not; it‘s your jurisdiction, your call, and he  _did_  admit to spray painting a defenseless wall down the street there, but,” He nodded at the ATM. “This, he didn’t do.” The officer stared at him, then opened his mouth to start asking questions.  
  
“I’m sorry, officer,” Samantha broke in, stepping forward to stand beside O’Neill. “That’s really all we can tell you at the moment. It’s a classified, ongoing investigation; I’m sure you understand.”  
  
He didn’t seem as if he understood at  _all_ , but the Colonel forestalled any further conversation by turning and heading back to their car, Samantha beside him. When they reached the vehicle, he shot her a look across the low roof of the car.  
  
“Anything?”  
  
It was her turn to shrug.  
  
“Well, sir, an ATM uses a magnetic card and a number combination to allow customers access to their account. That’s very similar to the arrangement we have in the SGC to control the section seals and security doors, and we saw how easily she managed those.”  
  
He nodded, gazing at the machine thoughtfully.  
  
“So basically, she just--” here he made vague gestures in the air with his hands. “--Unlocked it?”  
  
“Yes sir.” She turned to regard the machine as well, ignoring the handful of police officers who were casting curious glances in their direction. “My guess is that she found the machine and decided she wanted to rob it. She obtained the spray paint, and then did a teleport to land with her hands and the can right in front of the camera, probably already spraying paint when she arrived.”   
  
O’Neill frowned.  
  
“She has to know we already have video of her, from the surveillance cameras in the SGC. Unless....”  
  
She looked at him.  
  
“Unless?”  
  
He smiled faintly.  
  
“No idea. You’re the smart one, Carter, I was hoping you would finish that for me.”  
  
She gave him an arched eyebrow.  
  
“Ha, ha, sir.”  
  
Her phone rang, and she dug it out of her pocket. The Colonel opened the door on his side of the car and slid into his seat, and she followed suit as she answered the call.  
  
“Carter here.”  
  
“Hey, Sam,” Daniel said, sounding as tired as she felt. It was full day by this point, the sun well above the horizon. “Teal’c and I just finished talking to the Mini-Mart guys, and it was definitely our visitor.”  
  
She settled herself in her seat, pulled the door closed and reached for the seatbelt.   
  
“You’re sure?”  
  
The voice in her ear turned wry.  
  
“Oh, yes. One of the clerks has some cameraphone video of her, and it’s obviously her. Even though most of the footage he took was of the rear portion of her, um... upper leg area, let’s say.”  
  
Samantha couldn’t help grinning at his discomfort.  
  
“Let me guess: skintight jeans?”  
  
“Uh, yes, actually. ...Good guess?”  
  
O’Neill was looking at her expectantly, so she went on.  
  
“What did she do? More stealing?”  
  
“Yes. According to the employees, this ‘really hot girl’ came in, went straight to the back of the store, grabbed an armload of energy drinks, ducked behind the potato chips display, and vanished.”  
  
Samantha heard Teal’c’s voice in the background.  
  
“I believe the exact phrase the witness used was ‘she went “Poof”, like some kind of babelicious ninja.’”  
  
“...Thank you, Teal’c.”  
  
“You are welcome, Daniel Jackson.”  
  
She looked across to O’Neill.  
  
“Stolen energy drinks.”  
  
He blinked.  
  
“Holy crap, she really doesn’t believe in paying for  _anything_  if she can steal it instead, does she?”  
  
Samantha looked into space, her eyes narrowed in thought.  
  
“That’s true, sir. It would have been simpler to just pay for the drinks, if she planned to ever pay for anything. At that point, she either knew she was about to get a bag full of cash, or she  _already_  had it.”  
  
Daniel’s voice from the phone by her ear beat O’Neill in prompting her:  
  
“So?”  
  
“Well, if she isn’t going to pay for anything she can simply take, why did she even bother to steal the money? What could she possibly want that she wouldn’t be able to grab and carry off with her?”  
  
They all sat and pondered that for a few seconds, till finally O’Neill gave a yawn, then glanced at her in apology.  
  
“Sorry. I’ve been up for almost thirty hours, and it’s starting to--” He stopped and looked at her. She nodded back, making the same connection.  
  
“Hotels.”  
  
He nodded. “Hotels. Someone who’s only willing to wear designer clothes isn’t going to crash on a park bench when she needs a nap. We need to check every hotel and motel in town. If we get lucky, we might catch her sleeping.”  
  
Samantha winced.  
  
“Sir, this is a city of half a million people, and it’s a tourist destination. There are also a dozen separate national sports federations with headquarters here, and they all hold conventions. It takes a  _lot_  of hotels to handle all that.”  
  
He started the car, pulled out into traffic, and shot her a politely-inquiring look.  
  
“I’m sorry, Captain, did you have something more pressing planned for your morning?”  
  
She toned down her grimace as best she could, shook her head and sighed.  
  
“No, sir, my schedule is clear.”  
  
Returning the phone to her ear, she asked Daniel which part of the city he preferred as a starting point.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
When Dawn woke up it was to find the room filled with light, sunbeams slanting down through the East-facing windows. She stretched, blinked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and blew it back out again.  
  
 _I didn’t sleep that long, but I feel a million percent better._  
  
The layer of ATM cash atop the comforter made little crinkling sounds as she shifted around slightly. Closing her eyes, she thought about what the bed looked like from a few feet away.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She appeared, more or less in a standing position, her feet a few inches off the ground. Dropping to the floor she had to wave her arms wildly for a moment to catch her balance, but after that she was fine.   
  
 _Cool. I was wondering if I could do something like that. So, if I’m careful, I can appear in chairs from a standing start, or go the other way, and jump from sitting down to standing up without falling on my butt._  
  
She walked into the living room area, absently pulling several crumpled bills out of her hair and letting them fall to the carpet. Her bags of stolen clothing were piled haphazardly on the couch, and she went through them all, sorting her acquisitions into neat stacks.  
  
Her plan for the day, such as it was, basically came down to getting out of town. Ultimately, she wanted to get to Los Angeles. Not only was that the closest thing she had to ‘home’, it was also such a sprawling, busy place that she doubted the Initiative-types would be able to track her down once she arrived. The problem with that, obviously, was that L.A was a  _long_  way from Colorado.  
  
 _I was thinking about taking a plane, but my purse and my ID didn’t make the trip with me last night; they’re probably still lying where Willow and Tara ambushed me outside that club. There’s no way airport security will let me on a plane without a license and some credit cards, and I don’t have Spike to hook me up with the right sorts of people to get me some new fake ones._  
  
She tried to regret having never learned how to acquire such things for herself, but it was just so  _comforting_ , letting other people take care of the difficult things for her. Spike had done quite a bit of that, and even Faith had been willing to act as her protector and guide for a time, when Dawn had finally found her, eight months after Buffy’s death. Buffy, obviously, had done everything, and shouldered every responsibility after their mother’s death, doing her best to handle it all and let Dawn concentrate on school. She really, really wished one of those three were with her now, so she could go back to being a sheltered child again.  
  
 _They’re not here, though. There’s just me, and I need to figure this out._  
  
She knew how to drive a car, though she hadn’t had tons of practice. Driving all the way to California seemed kind of crazy, but if she could get at least some distance between herself and the military types hiding under their mountain, even just to the next state over....  
  
 _Then I could look for someone to do the ID’s for me, without being afraid that a bunch of guys in camo were going to jump me the second my back was turned. The only problem with that plan is: how am I going to get a car? I probably can’t buy or rent one of those without ID either, so how...?_  
  
She grinned suddenly, and looked down at the clothing choices she had available. The snug black sweater and even more snugly-fitting jeans were the least conspicuous options she had, but she left those lying there and instead chose the outfit beside them. Silvery-grey, clingy and stretchy, the mini-dress would show off every inch of her curves. It barely reached her upper thighs, which was exactly what the designer had intended: it would draw attention to her legs, which would be at their very sexiest thanks to some ultra-dark stockings and the Louboutin stiletto heels.  
  
 _All this, plus my new trick? Getting a car will_  not  _be a problem._  
  
She draped the dress over her arm and headed for the bathroom. She rarely went out unless her hair and makeup were totally together anyway, but for this she absolutely couldn’t afford to skimp on the preparation.   
  
  
* * * * *  
  
It had taken them over three hours to check every hotel, motel, bed and breakfast and boarding house within the city limits, and it had resulted in exactly nothing. Jack and the others had shown Green Eyes’ photograph to every counter clerk, bellhop, and irritable manager they could find: none of them remembered seeing the girl. At the end of all that, tired and discouraged, he’d declared a rest break and they’d adjourned to their favorite little breakfast place for food and coffee.  
  
Lots and  _lots_  of coffee.  
  
“--Might actually be a good thing to let her on a plane,” Carter was saying as the rest of them decided what to order. “If her power obeys conservation of momentum, then she  _can’t_  shift herself from a moving plane to the ground, because she would still be moving at the same speed.”  
  
Jack nodded in understanding.   
  
“I doubt that anyone, Goa’uld, Nox or whatever would want to smear themselves all over the landscape at five hundred miles per hour, but we don’t know that conservation thing is a problem for her.”  
  
Carter stopped, shook her head, and sighed, reaching for her coffee.  
  
“No sir, we don’t. For one thing, the--” she glanced around at the nearest customers to her table, and lowered her voice. “--The Stargate system is able to compensate for enormous differences in relative speed and direction between the point of origin and the destination. So we know it’s possible, and her technology might also have that capability.”  
  
Finishing his own coffee, O’Neill found the waitress with his eyes and gestured for another refill.  
  
“For now we’ll try our best to keep her  _off_  of planes. Unless she actually lands on a wing and peeks in through the window, she’ll still have to go through the terminal, and we’re watching that, so....”  
  
He trailed off as the woman reached the table, gave him a smile, and refilled his cup. With no new sightings for the past several hours, and their sweep of the various Hotels coming up empty, he’d sent the Marines of SG:3 to back up the Airmen watching the airport. Even though he hated to admit it, he was at a loss as to what to do next. Carter and Daniel were both looking ragged and little bleary from lack of sleep, and both of them were younger than he by a good margin. He had lots of practice at forcing himself to keep going no matter what, but eventually they were going to need sleep, despite all that caffeine could do.  
  
Teal’c, sitting there in his knit cap, looked like he could keep going for another month or so without complaint, and could probably do exactly that.  
  
The waitress set the pitcher of coffee aside and pulled out her notepad, looking around the table and giving them a bright, professional smile.  
  
“Do you need another few minutes, or are you ready to order?”  
  
Jack gave her a small smile of his own, and shook his head.  
  
“Nope, we’re ready. It’s been a long morning, and we’re starving.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Getting dressed hadn’t taken long, and makeup went fairly quickly when you weren’t quite eighteen years old and therefore didn’t _have_  any wrinkles or flaws that needed hiding. She’d indulged herself a bit with some elaborate eyeliner and shadow, because, after her hair, her eyes were her best feature.  
  
 _Not that I have any_  bad  _features or anything; vampire girls only_  wish  _their skin was this pale and perfect. My butt is kind of fantastic too; that guy with the cameraphone this morning-ha!_  
  
She wandered around the living room of her suite, practicing walking in her new shoes while fiddling with her new jewelry. Three rings on every finger (and four of them on two) didn’t seem excessive to her, not when all of them were expensive and stylish and golden and glittering. There  _was_  a minor issue with one of her bracelets--the chain was meant to be looped three times around the wrist and fastened in place, but her hands were a little too slender for that to work, and it kept trying to slip off when she wasn’t paying attention. There was a large mirror on one wall, and she stood well back, surveying her appearance.  
  
 _Hot_ , She decided, after a moment’s contemplation.  _Very, very hot_. Then she burst out laughing.  
  
 _It is so not my fault! The monks made me from things they got from Buffy, and she was vain, too! Every bit as vain as me, she just hid it better._  
  
Thinking about her sister made her sad, of course, like it always did, and Dawn’s smile didn’t last long.  _She was so pretty, and she loved it, only they told her she was a Slayer, and there were monsters to kill, and she didn’t have much time to be a girl after that. She tried to hold on to some of what she was before, and stay fun, and flirty, and pretty, but it all wore her down, little by little._  
  
She shook her head, breaking out of her reverie.  
  
 _No, not going to think about that right now. That only leads to lots of sadness, and crying, and hiding in bed all day while eating much too much double chocolate ice cream._  
  
Just the thought of ice cream was enough to make her stomach rumble, and she quickly seized upon the welcome distraction.  
  
 _Wow, I just realized I haven’t eaten anything since... noon yesterday? Something like that. Which is great for my waistline, but not so great for a few hours of driving, with only fast-food places to stop at; ugh!_  
  
She still needed to pack her things, gather up all her money, and decide on a destination for her car trip... and another grumble from her midsection told her that all of those things could wait. Even though ordering room service was out of the question when the room was supposed to be empty, she remembered seeing notices in the lobby about a continental breakfast that was served until eleven a.m.  
  
 _So, no problem, I’ll just ‘shift’ myself down there and...._  She paused, and turned to face the mirror again. Reaching for the power, she felt her eyes tingle, and saw their blue-green color begin to shimmer with that eerie green light.  
  
 _Um. I wish there was a way to keep them from doing that. I can’t walk around looking like this, but if I shut it away then I can’t disappear in a hurry if someone tries to grab me_. She concentrated, trying to simultaneously allow the clean rush of crystalline energy to flow through her, while at the same time forcing her eyes into normal channels of seeing.  
  
 _...Nope, not happening. I can’t have it both ways; I’m either ‘on’, with glowy eyes, or ‘off’ with my usual, everyday, mega-beautiful Dawnie eyes._  Remembering her very first teleporting experiences, back in the lowest part of the secret base, she tilted her head and considered. She  _had_  managed to shift herself at least once, before she’d known to connect to the lake of power. She tried it now, visualizing a little corridor just off the main lobby of the Hotel.  
  
She felt a vague sense of strain, like stretching for something just out of reach on a high shelf, but she didn’t change locations. Turning around, she looked through the doorway and into her bedroom. The foot of the bed wasn‘t very far away at all....  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was there, and now it was more than just simple hunger that had her middle feeling empty and queasy.  
  
 _Okay, that’s something at least. I can do one short hop, or maybe two super-short ones, without using the lake. I can live with that._  
  
She opened herself to the power, felt the faint tingling of her eyes, and searched through the loot from the clothing store until she found something that might solve that particular problem. The ‘Vixen-6’ were the latest in high-fashion sunglasses, with a rakish design and eighteen-caret gold accents, and Dawn would have happily paid the listed twelve-hundred dollars for them. If, you know, it hadn’t been so much easier to just steal them. Like most of the other items she’d taken from ‘ _Trophy’_ , these had a bulky, white plastic thingy attached to them, supposedly impossible for a would-be shoplifter to remove without specialized tools. Dawn smirked at the little device, flicked it lightly with one long fingernail, and watched it spring open and fall to the floor. She slipped the sunglasses on and checked her reflection again.  
  
 _That works pretty well. And of course they look great, too_. The greenish glow was only faintly visible through the dark plastic lenses, and when she pushed the glasses up on her head, they served (entirely by design) as a very stylish hair accessory that looked a lot like a sleek tiara of gold and jet. She pulled them back down over her eyes, thought about that spot on the ground floor again, and--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Breakfast was laid out on tables in a bright, high-ceilinged room that looked out over a courtyard and large swimming pool. Dawn looked around, noting the way that several of the male guests were totally checking her out. Even one of the Hotel staff was doing it; actually staring at her so hard that he nearly hit someone with a food cart. Pleased by the compliment implicit in his reaction, she gave him a brilliant, movie-star smile and moved to the table with a deliberate sway to her hips. Since there was no sign of the military people she felt safe enough to shut her power away, and with her eyes back to normal she pushed her sunglasses up.  
  
There were croissants and rolls, waffles and pastries, an array of cheeses and five kinds of jam. Carafes of coffee were everywhere, and she crinkled her nose in distaste; she’d  _never_  understood the attraction of the dark, bitter liquid. Despite the now-constant grumbling of her stomach she took just two rolls, dabbing them lightly with strawberry preserves.  
  
 _Nothing tastes as good as a tiny waist looks_ , she reminded herself, chanting the mantra to herself in a long-practiced ritual.  _Nothing tastes as good as being sexy feels._  Filling a small glass with orange juice, she strolled across the room, nibbling slowly at a roll. Dozens of colorful pamphlets were on display in a rack near the windows, and she stood and read them as she ate.  
  
‘Visit the Garden of the Gods’ one exclaimed, over a photo of some admittedly striking rock formations. ‘Explore the magical Cave of the Winds!’ said another, with several accompanying images of caverns and people standing in caverns. She looked past others that extolled the virtues of something called ‘Seven Falls’, and frowned at one for the Air Force Academy. After being chased through an entire mountain full of uniformed people waving guns at her, the one thing she did not want to do was visit a school populated by miniature versions of them.  
  
She trailed her be-ringed fingers along the various pamphlets, gave her hand an irritated little flick when the loose bracelet tried to escape again, and then made a happy little sound.   
  
 _Aha! A state map; that will be helpful._  Both of her rolls were gone, so she sipped at her orange juice as she turned to go find a quiet spot and shift back to her suite--  
  
And she nearly stepped on a small figure that had edged very close without Dawn noticing. The child--a blonde girl of around five or so--hastily snatched back her hand from where it had been reaching for Dawn’s hair. She looked so comically guilty at having been caught that Dawn had to laugh.  
  
“It’s okay, you can touch it if you want.” Turning her legs to the side and taking care to keep the hemline tugged as low as possible (it was a very short dress) she crouched down. The girl looked ready to turn and run, but she gathered her courage instead and hesitantly reached out to pat and stroke the thick, silken mane. After allowing this for a minute or so Dawn stood up, combing fingers through her locks to settle them back into place. The girl smiled shyly up at her.  
  
“You’re  _really_  pretty,” she said, her voice almost too soft to hear. Dawn smiled back.  
  
“Aww, thank you! So are you.” The Chanel bracelet tried to slip off  _again_ , and she flicked her hand, frowned, looked at the girl, and crouched down once more. “Here. This doesn’t want to stay with me; maybe it would rather be with you.” Taking it off, she very carefully took the girl’s hand and wound it around and around her wrist. Three loops were too loose to stay on Dawn, but four passes left the catch in exactly the right place for the bracelet to fit properly on the girl’s wrist. Dawn watched her stare at the softly gleaming trinket, her eyes widening in amazed wonder, then she ran full-tilt across the room. A slightly frumpy-looking woman was at the breakfast table, filling two plates to overflowing, and the little girl tugged frantically at her sleeve.  
  
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy look! That girl looks just like my Barbie, and she gave me  _this!_ ”  
  
Dawn turned away before the woman saw her face, making sure she had her map before slipping into a conveniently-placed ladies’ room. With any luck the mother wouldn’t even suspect that the bracelet was real gold, and would let her keep it. When she saw that the restroom was empty, she opened herself to the power and visualized her suite.  
  
She had some packing to do, a car to steal, and a lot of driving ahead of her.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
They were halfway through breakfast when Jack’s phone went off. He put down his fork, finished chewing his hash browns and answered. The conversation that followed was as informative as it was brief, and when he was finished he looked at the others.  
  
“Remember how we showed all of those Hotel people the girl’s picture, and none of them had seen her? Well, one of them just saw her.”  
  
That got their attention.  
  
“Which Hotel?” Daniel asked, looking far more alert and awake then he had even a few seconds earlier.  
  
“The Marriott,” Jack told him, taking out his wallet and dropping some cash on the table in front of him. Carter stared at him, looking faintly incredulous.  
  
“Sir, that’s only four blocks from here.”  
  
He smiled a predator’s smile back at her.  
  
“Yes, Captain; that  _is_  only four blocks from here.”  
  
The four of them rose from their chairs in unison.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The people in their mountain fortress were still playing with their Donut-ring. Dawn had barely gotten back to her suite when the whole thing started up again, with all the same effects as before. She gained her glowing aura again, and just like the eyes, it turned out that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t shut it off and maintain her link to the power at the same time.   
  
The entire thing also felt noticeably different this time, with a faint inwards tugging that seemed to draw the energy toward the center, instead of pushing outwards like it had before. With no way of knowing what any of that actually meant, she resolved to ignore it for now and finish her preparations. She’d reluctantly decided to abandon some of her clothes, and most of the money. All of it together was just too much for her to bring along in one jump, and she could replace it easily anyway. The two overnight bags would serve to hold several thousand dollars in cash, plus several outfits, her makeup and jewelry, and one pair of sandals for when she couldn’t wear her new heels. The Christian Louboutin stilettos were  _staying_  on her feet; after all, it wasn’t like she really had to walk more than the occasional few steps. Besides, they looked amazing.  
  
The vast, slowly-spinning energy disturbance wound down once more, and she sighed. Being linked to the power reservoir while it was doing that felt very strange, and she decided to keep it closed away until she was ready to go, just in case it started up again.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
As the elevator rose, Daniel looked down at the items he held; the coiled-serpent shape of the Zat gun in one hand and two auto-syringes of tranquilizing agent in the other.   
  
“--Pretty sure she hasn’t holed up in a room that already has people,” Jack was saying. “Going from the way she keeps running away whenever somebody gets close to her, this is the shyest Goa’uld in history. So at least we shouldn’t be looking at a hostage situation.” The elevator dinged its arrival at the twelfth floor, and when the doors slid open both he and Samantha stepped out. Turning around, he put one hand on the doors to hold them open while he looked at Daniel.  
  
“You know we can’t risk her getting away again, right? If you and Teal’c find her first, I want you to  _shoot_  her.”  
  
Daniel looked back at him, his face troubled.  
  
“Do you really still think this is a Goa’uld, Jack?”  
  
The older man met his gaze with eyes as unyielding as steel.  
  
“I  _think_  we don’t know what she is, and what we absolutely can’t do is take a chance that she  _is_  a Goa’uld. This is Earth, Daniel, this is  _home_ , and we don’t risk home on a hunch.”  
  
That was all true, so far as it went, but he refused to let the other man sidestep his question.  
  
“But you don’t think she’s a Goa’uld, do you?”  
  
The elevator door tried to close, and O’Neill shoved at it, perhaps a little more fiercely than he intended.  
  
“...If I thought she was a snake, I’d have a Marine sniper up on a roof across the way, ready to put a bullet through her brain the second he spotted her. That doesn’t change anything--we have to be sure she’s not a threat, and for that we need to take her back with us. The whole point of these--“ He waggled the hand that held his Zat gun. “--Is that we can shoot first and talk later, so that’s what we’re going to do. Understand?”  
  
Daniel nodded.  
  
“I understand. Thank you, Jack.”  
  
He nodded, then released the doors and headed down the hall to where Samantha stood waiting.   
  
“Okay then. Don’t waste any time; now that naptime is over, she could bounce out of here any--”  
  
The closing doors cut off the rest. Daniel looked at the elevator’s control panel, and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. Jack was military, and the military mindset liked things to be straightforward and orderly. A search of all the unoccupied luxury suites, starting with the lowest and nearest and working up from there made sense from that perspective, and even Sam had thought the girl would be too clever to hide on the highest floor, where everyone would expect an arrogant Goa’uld to establish her lair. Daniel, on the other hand, thought differently. Not that he thought the girl was stupid.  
  
 _I just think she really is as young as she looks. Not cunning, like a centuries-old creature with thousands of years of racial memories, just impulsive and inexperienced, like a teenage girl._  
  
The elevator arrived at the highest floor, and he stuffed the Zat into the back of his belt. The syringes went into his jacket pocket.  
  
“Did you not just agree to incapacitate the girl, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c asked as he stepped out of the elevator to join him.   
  
“No, I just said that I understood Jack’s reasoning; I never said I agreed with it.” He withdrew the list of empty suites from his other pocket, along with the master card key the Hotel staff had provided. The Jaffa stayed close behind him as he moved to the first door, and though he seemed to accept Daniel’s position in regards to talking versus shooting, his own Zat stayed in his hand, ready to fire in an instant.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Jack felt a little worried about splitting the team, but if the girl was through resting then every moment increased the chance that she would simply vanish from the Hotel and continue with whatever it was she had come to Earth to accomplish. Once she was out of Colorado Springs, it might well be impossible to locate her again.   
  
 _Teal’c is with him, and he can handle any trouble Daniel manages to land himself in... right? Besides, me and Carter might find her first._  
  
The two Air Force officers finished their sweep of the unoccupied suites on twelve and headed back to the elevator at a trot. If Jack were a betting man, he’d bet on the girl being somewhere on the next floor. Not on twelve, where there were more occupied rooms, and not on fifteen, where everyone would  _expect_  you to be if you did actually turn out to be an alien snake with a god-complex. Nope, no way.  
  
The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Daniel knew they’d found the right room the second the door swung open. Even from where they stood, he and Teal’c could see some of the large living room, and there were expensive clothes dropped carelessly in the floor, along with a few green bills scattered about. The girl was nowhere in sight, so with a brief glance at each other they eased inside.  
  
Passing through the foyer to reach the larger room, Daniel paused and looked around. There was a pile of small, white plastic objects in one of the overstuffed chairs that he didn’t immediately recognize, and for a moment he felt a stab of concern. Maybe the girl  _was_ an alien terrorist and the angular little devices were some kind of explosives? Then, when his mind suddenly made the connection between the stolen clothing and the theft-prevention tags most stores used, he felt both foolish and relieved. Teal’c ghosted past him, Zat raised and questing for a target. The room was empty, but there was the door to the bedroom, standing open. Faint sounds of movement came to them, and the Jaffa started forward, only to pause when Daniel raised his hand.  
  
“Please,” he mouthed to the big man. “Let me try.”  
  
Teal’c regarded him for a moment that stretched long... then inclined his head slightly in acquiescence. He moved silently to one side, near the glass wall that looked out over the city. There he waited, poised to move very quickly should the situation call for it, as Daniel went to the open doorway. Looking in, he found that room empty as well, though signs of recent habitation were everywhere. He was distracted for only a second or two by the cash scattered across the rumpled bed. There was another door on the other side of the room, and he could hear someone moving, even see their shadow on the floor, cast by the bright bathroom lighting.  
  
 _I don’t want to walk over and have her turn around to find me right in front of her; that would frighten anyone._  
  
Carefully, he cleared his throat; softly, but loud enough to carry. No response was forthcoming; the sounds of movement continued, and for a moment there was the sound of running water in a sink, shut off again a second later. Daniel took another step into the room, and readied himself to try again, louder this time.  
  
It proved unnecessary; the bathroom light clicked off and the girl moved into the bedroom, head tilted to one side as she ran a wide-toothed comb through her long hair. She was looking down as she walked, and was halfway across the room before she looked up to find him standing there. He gave her his most reassuring smile.  
  
“Hello again. My name is--”  
  
She was gone; her instant look of wide-eyed terror vanishing in a soft implosion of air that left the comb to fall to the floor. A faint sound from behind made him whirl, and he saw her next to the couch, reaching for the two large shoulder bags there. Seeing Teal’c just fifteen feet away, weapon in hand, she flinched away with a little shriek, the sound jumping strangely as she vanished again, only to reappear against the far wall, directly in front of the large television. Daniel took the two steps required to put him back in the living room, hands raised and open to show he was unarmed. Oddly, the girl hesitated for a moment, closing her eyes and clutching at her midsection as if in pain. When she opened her eyes again, they were shining with green light. She straightened slowly, looking like she was trying to judge the distance between herself, Daniel, Teal’c, and those two bags.  
  
“Please, wait. We just want to talk.” Her attention shifted to him. “Please. No one is going to hurt you.” She hesitated, looked from him to Teal’c and back again before answering in a soft, tense voice.  
  
“I don’t believe you.  _He_  wants to hurt me.” She tried to glare at him, and only partly succeeded; she was too nervous to take her eyes off he Jaffa for more than a second or so. “ _He_  locked me in a room and chased me all around and then all the way up four billion stairs and right to the front door of that place!”   
  
Inside, Daniel was cheering. The girl was  _talking_. That opened up an infinite number of possibilities.  
  
“He doesn’t want to hurt you.” Catching Teal’c’s eye, he gestured urgently. “He’s a good guy. We’re both good guys." Slowly, reluctantly, Teal’c lowered his Zat. “See? Now, like I was saying; my name is Daniel Jackson. What’s yours?”  
  
She stared at Teal’c distrustfully, edging as far away from him as she could without getting too close to where Daniel stood. When she looked back at him, he could see the wariness in her eyes, even through the green shimmer.  
  
“...Dawn.”  
  
“Dawn. I like that. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Dawn.” Daniel slowly lowered his hands to a more natural position, careful not to startle her. He could appreciate her beauty in the detached, impersonal manner of a trained observer, and she was without doubt very beautiful indeed. The many rings she wore made him a little nervous, given how, en masse, they looked a little like a Goa’uld Ribbon device, but he reminded himself that she’d taken jewelry from the store that morning. Speaking of which....  
  
“So, kind of a busy morning, huh? Showing up in the SGC, then robbing that store, then the ATM, then the Mini-Mart, breaking in here.... We would have let you stay at the base if you’d just asked--”  
  
“Why are you still  _chasing_  me?!” She shouted it at him, with enough volume to make him take a step back and prompt Teal’c to make an aborted move to raise his Zat. “I’m not  _bothering_  you! I didn’t take anything of yours! I’m just trying to go--”  
  
She cut that off abruptly, and he regarded her with undisguised curiosity.  
  
“Go where?”  
  
Her expression was closed, and more than a little sullen.  
  
“None of your business.”  
  
Daniel nodded.  
  
“Fair enough. There’s a small problem, though, and it’s a military thing, though in this case they do have a point. See... we have to know some things about you. That’s the reason why we’re chasing you, and until we find out for sure, there are going to be a  _lot_  of very determined people doing nothing but trying to track you down.” He was careful to make sure his tone was not that of someone making a threat, but was instead that of someone who wanted to help.   
  
It was only the truth, after all.  
  
“What ‘things’ do you want to know?” She asked, exactly as he’d hoped she would. She was looking almost exclusively at him now; Teal’c stood motionless, hands at his sides, letting Jackson try it his way.  
  
“Well, mainly we need to know: Are you a Goa’uld?”  
  
She blinked, which looked fairly surreal with her glowing eyes.  
  
“A ghoul?”  
  
“ _Goa’uld_.”  
  
“What’s a Goa’uld?”  
  
Daniel considered himself an excellent judge of people, and she was either a supremely talented actress or else she genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about.  
  
“Ah. Well, they’re a symbiotic species that can enter a human body and take it over? For all intents and purposes it becomes their body, and they’re all incredibly ruthless and evil. There’s also a glowing eye thing that happens, which is part of why everyone is a little confused about you....”  
  
Her confused expression resolved itself into one of revulsion, with a bit of fear added in on the side.  
  
“Oh, you think I’m a  _demon_. Well, I’m not! And just because I‘m different, that doesn’t mean I’m not a person!” Definitely fear there; she either wasn’t sure if he would believe her or she wasn’t sure it was  _true_. As for the term ‘demon’, there were plenty of instances where primitive human cultures explained the Goa’uld in that way.  
  
“I believe you,” He assured her. “But like I said, we can’t stop chasing you unless we’re sure. A Goa’uld loose on Earth is too dangerous to ignore.”  
  
She stared at him, eyes uncertain, hands making helpless little fidgeting motions in the air.  
  
“I don’t know what you want me to  _do_!”  
  
A new voice spoke from Daniel’s left, where the entranceway to the suite gave out onto the Hotel corridor.  
  
“We want you to come back to the Mountain with us.” They both gave a start and turned to look. O’Neill was there, Zat half-raised, gaze fixed on the girl. Just behind him, Samantha stood ready, ready to follow his lead. Without taking his eyes off Dawn he continued. “Daniel, what part of what we discussed earlier was unclear?”  
  
Figuring the best answer to that was to simply pretend he hadn’t heard, he went straight to introductions.  
  
“Jack, Sam, this is Dawn. Dawn, these are my friends, Jack O’Neill and Samantha Carter. You have my word that they are both good and decent people who are not going to shoot you.” The girl was trembling on the verge of vanishing; tension and fear were practically coming off her in waves. “I  _promise_  we won’t attack you.” He looked at O’Neill. “Jack, she isn’t a Goa’uld.”  
  
“Good to hear,” The other man said, his tone flat, his weapon not quite aimed at her, but not far from it, either. He was visibly weighing the options, and several seconds passed with he and Dawn staring at each other. When, finally, he lowered his Zat to point at the floor, Daniel was able to release the breath he’d been holding.  
  
“Fine. Nice to meet you, Dawn. By the way, next time you decide to just stroll into somebody’s secure facility, try  _knocking_  first, okay?”  
  
Dawn looked uncertain of how to take his change in tone, and her voice was very small when she answered:  
  
“Um, well.... It was open?”  
  
His mouth twisted to one side in a half-grimace half-smirk, and Daniel couldn’t tell if he was still angry at having his ‘shoot first’ plan ignored or was amused by the girl’s attitude and trying to hide it.   
  
“All right then. We aren’t going to shoot you.  _Daniel_  might accidentally get Zatted any second though, I haven’t decided. What we need now is for you to stay calm, not play any games with time and space as we understand them, and come with--”  
  
They’d all started to relax; even Dawn was looking back and forth between them with more curiosity than fear.  
  
Which is of course when it all fell apart.  
  
Several large men came in behind Samantha, moving in a smooth, nearly silent rush. One of them shoved her against the wall of the foyer while two more went at Jack. He barely had time to turn before they were on him, both of them jamming pistols into his stomach, one of them grabbing his wrist to immobilize his weapon. Daniel saw Teal’c’s arm come up with deadly precision and speed... then hesitate, and in a flash of intuition he could almost read the big man’s thoughts--a Zat blast incapacitated the target almost instantly, but in the process it caused every muscle to spasm uncontrollably, and O’Neill and Carter both had multiple weapons trained on them from point-blank range....  
  
Another half-dozen men were right behind the first group, all of them as similar to each other as a squad of stormtroopers; muscular builds, military gear, crew cuts, and weapons. Weapons they aimed, as one, at Dawn.  
  
“No!” Daniel’s cry burst out of him without conscious thought, and he took a step towards them. “Don’t--!”  
  
A hail of tranquilizer darts, taser needles, and one Zat blast all struck the television and the wall around it--Dawn wasn’t there anymore, she was in front of the couch, almost within arm’s reach of Daniel as she grabbed at the two stuffed carry-alls there. Her head whipped up, and for an instant their eyes met; his filled with shock, hers with fear and betrayal.  
  
“You  _promised_  me!”  
  
His frantic denial came too late, she vanished again, an instant before the couch was raked with a barrage of darts, needles, and another Zat discharge that came close enough to set his muscles to faintly twitching.  
  
“Wait! It wasn’t--!” His mouth snapped shut, and he turned to glare at the men crowding the entryway. The fury he felt let him disregard the weapons that were now trained on him, and he felt Teal’c’s looming presence close behind.   
  
Seconds passed before one of the men gestured curtly, and the guns were lowered. Several of them moved further into the room, most of them watching the Jaffa warily, weapons ready as he stared back at them. When the entryway cleared, Daniel saw that one of the men beside O’Neill was now on the floor, curled around an arm with an elbow that now bent the wrong way. Both of Sam’s attackers were likewise incapacitated, one of them bent over and vomiting loudly as he clutched at his ribs, the other simply unconscious on the floor, his face a bloody mess. Unfortunately that still left five more men standing in the foyer with them, weapons aimed, and it was clear from their faces that they were more than willing to shoot if given additional provocation.  
  
“Stand down.” One of them, the one carrying the Zat, ordered the others. “Secure the area. Check in there, in there--” He directed men at the doorways that led to the bedroom, the bathroom. Turning to look at Teal’c, he gestured with his free hand, weapon held off to one side, ready. “You stand down too, Jaffa. We’re not here for you.”  
  
Teal’c stared at him with those frighteningly intense eyes, before slowly turning his head to look at O’Neill. Jack, for his part, had apparently come to some conclusion as to what was happening, because he nodded.  
  
“Back off, Teal’c.” He looked at the men standing in a half-circle around himself and Sam, then at the one who seemed to be in charge. “You’d better have a  _really_  good reason for me not to shoot you.”  
  
The man just nodded, gestured for the men to lower their weapons, and moved to stand before the Colonel.   
  
“It so happens that I have one right here.” Withdrawing his ID from his pocket, he flipped it open and held it for O’Neill to see. Jack read it, cursed too softly for Daniel to make it out, then put his Zat back in his jacket.  
  
“What?” Daniel looked from Jack, to an equally disgusted Samantha, then back to Jack. “What is it?”  
  
O’Neill could only shake his head.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
“ _Maybourne?_ ”  
  
Hammond stared incredulously at the man who had just entered his office. The General’s assistant stood behind him, looking embarrassed at having let the Colonel simply walk past his station in the outer office.  
  
“General Hammond.” Maybourne snapped a precise salute, then dropped it when it became clear that the older man had no intention of returning the gesture. “I’m here under direct orders of the Pentagon, General. As of now, the alien designated ‘Green One’ is no longer your concern. The NID has been tasked with her capture and interrogation, and has been given complete authority in dealing with the matter. In fact, I spoke to my team a few minutes ago, and they were about to move in on the target. We may well already have her in custody.”  
  
Hammond scowled at him, not bothering to hide his distaste for the man and his organization. Fortunately, he was spared having to think of something remotely civil to say by the ringing of his phone. He picked up the handset, still staring at the smug officer before him.  
  
“Hammond.” He listened to the caller for a moment. “Yes, Colonel.” A pause, while the other man spoke. “Yes, I’ve just been made aware of that.” A somewhat longer series of comments from the other end followed, interspersed with a great deal of profanity with which he found himself in complete agreement. “I see. Very well, Colonel O’Neill, you and your team will return to base. I’ll debrief you when you arrive.” He hung up the phone and regarded Maybourne coldly.  
  
“Well, Colonel, your team seems to have performed with the level of competence and professionalism that I’ve come to expect from our friends at the NID.”   
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dawn bent down, putting her head just slightly inside the open passenger-side window of the sleek black sports car.  
  
“Thanks for stopping,” she told the driver, voice dripping with gratitude. “I’ve been walking for, like,  _hours_.”  
  
It had actually been more like ten minutes, and not so much ‘walking’ as ‘standing off to the side of the highway and teleporting a hundred yards or so every time there was a break in traffic’. She wasn’t too concerned with someone catching a glimpse of her from the corner of their eye; they would almost certainly dismiss anything weird they saw as their eyes playing tricks on them. She didn’t want anyone to get a good look at her doing her traveling thing, though, so when she was several miles north of Colorado Springs, she set her bags off at the edge of the woods, walked carefully to the shoulder of the highway, and stood there looking lost and gorgeous.  
  
The first car stopped fourteen seconds later, but it was a minivan driven by a nice couple from Indiana, with their five children in the back. She thanked them, assured them that she was fine, and sent them on their way. It took another twenty-six seconds for the next one to stop, and this one was exactly what she needed--a very nice car with a male driver who couldn’t take his eyes off her.  
  
“You need a lift?” He asked, doing a very poor job of hiding his eagerness. “Hop in; I’m going all the way to Denver.”  
  
She gave him her most radiant smile.  
  
“That’s great, thanks! Could I maybe borrow your phone first, though? I need to call my girlfriend and let her know I’ll be late getting there.”  
  
The man stared, and swallowed visibly as he dug out his phone and held it out to her.   
  
“ _Girl_ friend? As in...? I mean, she’s your...?”  
  
Dawn nodded, her smile turning naughty as she took the phone.  
  
“Yes,  _that_  kind of girlfriend. She’s very pretty, too, but she doesn’t mind sharing me with other people, so long as they’re nice.”   
  
That more or less turned off his brain as all the blood rushed elsewhere, so it wasn’t really his fault that he didn’t notice her reaching into the car until her hand was all the way to him. The bottle of perfume that she poured down his chest was from  _Trophy_ , and it was extremely expensive. That didn’t seem to matter to him, however, and he gave a sort of garbled snarl, grabbing at her as she hastily pulled out of reach. She laughed at his look of consternation as the overpowering floral scent filled the car, and stuck her tongue out at him as she walked backwards.  
  
“Sorry, I was lying. She broke up with me months ago; said it was ‘too fucked up’ for her to be sleeping with her old crush’s little sister.” She sighed wistfully, once again wishing that Faith had been a little less with the sense of honor, belated as it had been in arriving. “Anyway, I’m going to steal your phone now, and make mocking noises at you while I do it, so... nyah.”  
  
He was already fighting his way free of the seatbelt, throwing the door open and lunging out into the midday sun. Most importantly, he was so enraged that he left his keys in the ignition and the car running. He charged around the front of the car and came straight at her. She didn’t know if he was actually far enough gone to hit her, and obviously she had no desire to find out. When he was a few steps away, she smiled at him and--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She appeared next to where she’d left her bags, out of sight of the highway. Stuffing the phone and the perfume into one of them, she picked them up, thought  _very_  carefully about the interior of the car she’d just studied, and how she wanted to arrange things on arrival, and--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She landed behind the wheel, slightly twisted to the right so that both bags were resting on the passenger seat. The two of them together were a little too wide, and one of them tipped into the floorboard--no harm done. Looking up, she saw the man frozen in place a few yards away, staring at the place she’d disappeared from a few moments earlier. Glancing down, she found the button for the door locks and pushed it. The sound carried well enough to turn the man around, and he looked at her with a dumbstruck expression on his face.  
  
“I’m going to borrow this for a few hours, okay?” She called, loudly enough that he would hear her over the cars rushing by. “Sorry to be such a bitch, but I’m not really in the mood to talk. If you don’t tell anyone about this, I’ll leave your car parked on a street somewhere for you to find.” She lowered her brows in what she hoped was a suitably intimidating scowl. “If you call the police, and they come looking for me, then I’ll aim this thing at the edge of a cliff before I pop out of it. Because tattletales make me cranky.” He nodded vaguely, so she assumed he’d understood at least some of it. She nodded back, fiddled with the gear shift till she got it in drive, checked her mirrors, then blew him a kiss as she pulled away.  
  
She could have mashed down hard on the gas and sprayed him with gravel, but contrary to popular opinion, she wasn’t  _that_  much of a brat.  
  
Usually.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
Driving North along Interstate 25, it was roughly sixty miles from Colorado Springs to Denver. Not wanting to have to deal with the police unless she had to, Dawn drove just under the speed limit, which gave her plenty of time to think about what had happened back in her Hotel suite.  
  
 _Daniel Jackson. I don’t know what to think of you, Daniel Jackson._  
  
At first she’d been sure he had tricked her, talking with her just to stall for time until the soldier goons could arrive. The more she thought about it, though, the less certain she became.  
  
 _He looked as surprised to see them as I was. And they were grabbing at that man, Jack, and the woman, as they ran in at me. I’m not sure, but I think I even saw Jack break somebody’s arm?_  
  
She shook her head in irritation. It was hard to recall; she’d been so upset, so filled with panic, that it had all happened in a blur. Noticing that her speed had crept up past the posted limit she eased back on the gas, forcing herself to relax. The six inch stilettos she was wearing (which included a two-inch platform under the toes, to even make that much heel possible) were predictably difficult to drive in, so she carefully reached down and slipped them off. Setting them in the seat beside her, alongside the one overnight bag, she drove on in her stocking feet.  
  
 _Much better. So, anyway... what’s going on with those guys? The goons looked a lot like the ones from the mountain, with their camo and their guns... and wow, that one zapper thing was a_  lot  _like the ones the Initiative used, except smaller._  That made her wonder again if Daniel had been lying to her, when he said that he and his friends were the good guys. Maybe his definition of ‘good’ was taking cute girls with supernatural abilities back to the lair and experimenting on them. Maybe he hadn’t believed her when she’d told him that she wasn’t one of those ‘Goa’uld’ things.  
  
She was a little surprised at how upset she was at the idea that he was really evil. Yes, he was the only person in this world that she’d said more than a few words to, but it wasn’t like there was any other sort of connection there. It wasn’t like she  _needed_ someone to talk to her, and listen to her, and like her....  
  
She glared at the road in front of the car, looked down at the speedometer and noticed that she was going almost eighty, and eased off the gas again.   
  
There was a pack of cigarettes sitting in the center console, with a lighter underneath them. They weren’t the long, slim, ‘fashion’ brand that she smoked at clubs and parties; these were short, fat and stupid-looking. She took one out anyway, lit it, and inhaled deeply before blowing smoke against the windshield.  
  
 _I can’t believe I told him my name. I should have lied to him, said it was Faith, or Hermione, or Chalice, or... whatever._  
  
Maybe he  _was_  a good guy. Riley had been working against the Initiative at the end, and his friend Graham and some of the others had turned too. Maybe she should go back, and try to find Daniel. Offer to help them fight against those others.  
  
 _And maybe I should forget all about him, about all of them, and get far, far away from this place._  
  
That seemed far and away the smarter option, and she kept driving North, lighting another cigarette when she finished the first one, and another one after that.   
  
By the time she got to Denver, her throat was feeling scratchy, and her hair and clothes smelled horrible; a mix of tobacco and overpowering perfume. The gas gauge still showed more than half a tank, so she kept going straight through the city-not without a longing look at the huge airport as she drove past the high fences that bordered the highway.  
  
 _Still can’t try a plane. Once I get some ID, and I’m far enough from here, maybe then._  
  
Denver soon lay behind her, and she watched the signs, trying to decide on a destination. The state border was ninety miles away, and beyond it, Wyoming. If there was any place remote enough to be out of her pursuer’s immediate reach, that seemed like a good bet. The only thing that worried her was the availability of people who could do what she needed. Was there even a city in Wyoming big enough to support a criminal underground? Did forgers and hackers there have day jobs where they milked cows and made cheese?  
  
 _Still missing Spike; he could always find the people who could do anything I needed, or buy anything I stole. Willow had no right to do that banishing on him. ‘For your own good, Dawn’--my ass. She just couldn’t stand that none of her little tricks worked on me. You can’t change someone’s emotions or memories when they can Unlock any magick you wrap around their brain. And Xander and Tara didn’t believe me when I tried to make them let me break the spells she put on--_  
  
The world changed. Something struck her, as sudden and shocking as a bucket of ice water thrown into her face, and the car swerved as a spasm caused her hands to jerk at the wheel. She pulled off towards the side of the highway, saw that there was an exit ramp right in front of her and pulled onto that instead. The signs read ‘Mead’, which was apparently some tiny little town that only wished it were as big and grand as Sunnydale. Dawn drove to the end of the exit ramp, stared blankly at the empty intersection there, then turned right and drove slowly on.  
  
 _This... can’t be right. I can’t be feeling what I’m feeling; I_ can’t.  
  
Her hands were white where she gripped the wheel, and her teeth were clenched so hard her jaw and throat were aching. A short ways further on there was a gravel turnoff on the right, and she turned onto that. When it ended in a grassy field that stretched off for a mile or more, she drove right on into the meadow, going very slowly now, eyes straining as she tried to  _see_. When she finally saw it, she stopped the car, sat in numb silence for several minutes, then fumbled at the latch for the door.  
  
The ground was dry under her stockings, but not nearly firm enough for her heels, so she left them. Padding forward, feeling the cool wind in her face, feeling it tug at her hair, she walked on.  
  
 _There. There it is; that’s what I felt._  
  
Standing there, she looked at the ground, found a spot about twenty feet away, and tried to shift herself there.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Nothing even  _tried_  to happen. There was only a hollow, aching void inside her where the power had been just a few minutes before.  
  
She moved a few feet forward, and in the space between the third step and the fourth, energy washed across her, vitality filled her, and the world shaded into a beautiful fairyland of luminous green glass. She looked at that same spot in the grass and wished for herself to move.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was there; instantly, effortlessly.  
  
Dawn’s legs collapsed under her, and she sat down hard. Eyes dazed and unblinking, she looked South.  
  
The mountain was there, with the metal ring hidden in a cavern at its very roots. Twisting around, she looked North. There, only a few feet away, was the edge of the energy lake. It was huge, but not, as it turned out, infinite. It ended here.  
  
Right  _exactly_  here. There wasn’t a blurring, there wasn’t a zone where it began to fade and she started having trouble reaching it and using it. No, it had a sharp, definite edge, as clean and defined as the edge of a sidewalk. On this side, she could do anything. On _that_  side she was only Dawn, again. Still the Key, of course, and still able to do her tricks with locks and doors and bank machines.  
  
 _But that wouldn’t have saved me this morning, when those soldiers came after me. It won’t save me when they come after me again... and he said they wouldn’t stop coming._  
  
She was trapped. Whether she stayed or ran, she was trapped. Here, they could find her more easily, but at least she could flee. Out there, they would have to look much harder, look much longer, before they found her. And when they  _did_  find her....  
  
A tolling sounded, gently shaking the emerald world around her with the sound of bells as large as buildings, unheard by anyone who lived only in the world of grass and sky and buzzing insects darting among the wildflowers. The men in their mountain were about their mysterious business again, and she watched as the entire lake of light began to slowly turn.  
  
 _One hundred and twenty miles. One hundred and twenty miles, more or less, to that mountain from here. A circle two hundred and forty miles across._  
  
As cages went, it was very large. And of course she could leave any time she wished; all she had to do was go. Stay, and be hunted, go, and be helpless.  
  
Dawn bowed her head, put her shaking hands in her lap, and stared off at nothing, waiting for the bells to stop ringing.  
  
  
* * * * *


	5. Webs and Lairs

  
Nine Days Later....  
  
  
Dawn squirmed slightly beneath the cool, silken sheets, and heaved a conflicted little sigh at the darkness. On the one hand, the activities of the last hour or so had left her feeling deliciously languid and satiated. On the other hand, once things had quieted down he had promptly fallen asleep and was now snoring directly into her ear.  
  
 _Loudly_.  
  
His name was Colton Aldridge, and he was spooning her from behind, arms wrapped possessively around her even in sleep. Even though she knew it was pointless, she tried to Jump to the far side of his lavishly appointed bedroom. Tried, and failed.   
  
 _I hate that. When he wraps me up like this, the energy his body gives off 'sticks' to mine, and I can't move myself without bringing him too... and he's way too heavy for me to drag along through hyperspace or whatever._  
  
She'd had more than a week now to practice with her ability, and that limitation had been the worst surprise she'd encountered so far (aside from the one that bound her within a given distance from the Ring, obviously). Although non-living material on her person, such as clothing and jewelry, was carried along with her when she Jumped, she could choose to leave them behind if she concentrated on doing so. Living things, however, had energy fields associated with them, and those fields interacted with her own, and actively tried to latch onto her, like magnets to iron. It was very difficult to pull away from that by Jumping. Not impossible--four days ago she'd been grabbed by a man on the street while his partner had moved to steal her purse and jewelry, and even though he'd had a hand clamped around each of her wrists she'd managed to transport herself to safety. It had been difficult, but she'd managed it. Barely. The amount of body-to-body contact was absolutely a factor; someone holding her with one or both hands she could escape, someone crushing her against their torso, she couldn't.  
  
 _I'm pretty sure I can learn how to manage it, though. It feels like there's a trick to it, like... leverage or something, that I can get better at if I practice. And I_  am  _going to practice it; I love being held, but I_ don't _like being trapped._  
  
With that thought in mind, she tried again to escape the full-body embrace of her sleeping lover by Jumping a few feet away.  
  
 _Ugh. No good. It feels like I'm trying to lift him over my head; he's too heavy to move, and I can't unstick myself, either._  
  
Dawn tried resorting to physical means, taking the arm that was draped over her side and lifting it up and off--  
  
He snorted, stirred briefly, and wrapped her up even more tightly than before, pulling her close against his flat, hard chest and stomach before settling back to snoring, his arms a cage around her. She sighed again, this time with real feeling.  
  
 _Such a typical stockbroker--thinks he owns everything he touches._  
  
Her range of movement was limited when she was, basically,  _engulfed_  in his embrace like that, but she could lift her hand and put it near his face, just above and behind her head. She pushed her fingers  _sidewards-through_ , then wiggled them back and forth, inches from his eyes. Eerie green light shimmered and rippled outwards from her hand as she stirred the unseen forces that always surrounded her, throwing shadows around the room. Colton snorted again, shook his head, and lifted his arm away to shield his eyes in clumsy, still-sleeping reflex. Dawn pulled away; a few inches was enough to break contact with him over nearly her entire body, and once she'd done that--  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She watched him settle back, his breathing slow and steady, and gave him a fond little smile as she scooped her discarded lingerie up off the floor and pulled it on. Colton wasn't a bad sort, really. He was arrogant, yes, though not without reason. He was, after all, handsome, intelligent, wealthy, funny... and amazing in bed. As she slipped on her heels and gathered the rest of her clothing into her arms, Dawn hesitated briefly, feeling a faint rekindling of desire. She could climb back into bed, wake him with kisses, and feel his so-very-skilled hands and lips on her body again....  
  
She shivered, grinned, and shook her head.  
  
 _Later, Dawnie. He’s already obsessing over me, and hey, that_ is _only natural, but any more encouragement from me and he'll be totally obnoxious about it_. She tip-toed out into the hallway--not without a wistful little glance back at his wonderfully gym-toned body.   
  
The rest of the apartment was just as well-appointed as the bedroom; sleek, modern furniture and lots of expensive artworks and knick-knacks everywhere. She wasn't experienced enough to know if the look came off as cultured or just a too-obvious attempt at seeming that way, but it all seemed pretty impressive to her.   
  
 _Everything is a little too neat and orderly for me to feel comfortable here, though. It hardly feels lived-in at all, with everything so clean, and all the little spotlights shining on the paintings and sculptures and antiques._  
  
Sneaking through the huge apartment in nothing but her high-heels and lingerie, Dawn found she couldn‘t keep a wicked little smile from her lips.   
  
 _I’ve been in lots of places filled with expensive things, and stolen lots of them, just never with_ this  _much skin showing!_  She giggled, trying her best to keep it quiet, even though Colton was a ridiculously heavy sleeper.  _Come to think of it, there were a few times when my life might have been a lot easier if I’d been dressed like this--that guard at the art show in Portland had no sense of humor at all... but he could hardly take his eyes off me. Maybe I should have some kind of special burglar outfit made that’s, like, designed to short-circuit men’s brains?_  
  
She entered the study, which was lined with shelves full of expensive first editions that Colton had never even considered reading. Her heels clicked quietly as she moved to a large glass case and peered down at the dozens of rare and valuable coins that lay gleaming on their black velvet cushions.  
  
 _It’s not like I need to steal any of his things for money; I'm set for a long time, with what I've grabbed in the last few days. Nope, this is just to drive Colton crazy, which is the most fun I‘ve had since I landed in this place._  
  
There were two spots in the case that were conspicuous by their emptiness--two places where small gold coins had rested until very recently. Two coins gone missing, one for each of the two previous times he had taken her to his bed.  
  
 _Ha! He was sooo mad when he saw the first one was gone--he stormed up to me the next night in the club, and actually snarled at me, wanting to know if I'd taken it. When I just said 'yes', he didn't know_  what  _to do!_  
  
She'd refused his demand that she return it to him, and his anger had turned to surprise and puzzlement, and eventually to amusement. To be honest, she’d been a bit surprised by that particular turn of events. He gave the impression of being a total control freak--he  _was_  a total control freak! All she could figure was that he was so used to women falling all over him that he found it refreshing for someone to defy him. Of course, it was a very minor, completely harmless sort of defiance--she doubted he would have found it nearly as cute if she’d cleared out his entire apartment instead of taking just the one coin.   
  
And finally, a beautiful young woman with the ability to steal something from a locked case, with no trace of how she'd done it definitely intrigued him. After she'd admitted to the theft, and refused his repeated demands for its return in the most kittenish and flirty ways she could devise, he'd been captivated, not leaving her side once all that evening. They'd talked and danced and flirted till the club closed down, and then he had brought her to his apartment for another round of very satisfying sex.  
  
And after he fell asleep, she made a point of stealing another golden coin as she left.  
  
 _He handled it just as well the second time, too; when he saw me tonight all he did was smile at me, like I'd done something funny and adorable, and said he‘d always wanted to meet a Woman of Mystery. And the things he did to me in bed tonight when we got back here--ohhh, so nice. If it bothers him at all to have me taking his toys, he's willing to put up with it so long as he gets to keep playing with_ Me.  
  
Dawn shivered a little, and not just from the chill of the apartment as she stood there in nothing but a gauzy negligee. With a little shake of her head to drive those thoughts away, she reached for the case. It was of museum quality; heavy glass set in an attractive framework of brushed steel nearly as solid as the girders that held up the building. She paused when she saw the brand new locking mechanism; an intricate thing of gleaming metal that looked like it had been dreamed up by some crazed watchmaker who secretly longed to build bank vaults. It seemed to require two oddly-shaped keys to open, as well as the proper manipulation of a complex arrangement of small, sliding levers.   
  
With a soft laugh and a quick glance towards the hallway to make sure Colton hadn't awakened, Dawn bent down and lightly pressed her lips to the cool metal of the lock. One soft kiss, when infused with the power of the Key, was more than enough to defeat the device. With a quiet triple-click, it disengaged, and she slid the door at the back of the case aside. Her hair spilled forward past her shoulders in a silken rush as she leaned over, and she used one hand to keep it clear as she reached inside. She had no clue which coins were the most valuable, and it didn't matter to her in the least. She chose one basically at random, simply because it featured a seven-rayed star design that appealed to her. Leaving all the rest of the gleaming gold untouched, she closed the panel and relocked it with a touch of her finger.  
  
 _See? Mine. Anything I want, it‘s mine, and don‘t you_ dare _try to keep it away from me._  
  
She wasn't sure who she was addressing; Colton, or Willow, or the cold and uncaring universe. What she  _was_  sure of was how comforting and satisfying it was to clasp that coin in both hands and press them tightly to her chest.  
  
It occurred to her that Faith would be very proud, if she could see how Dawn was dealing with her situation, how she was taking whatever she wanted and using whoever was at hand to satisfy her needs and desires. Buffy, on the other hand....  
  
 _Buffy would understand. She wouldn't like all the stealing, but she would want me to be rich, and have nice things, and boink hot guys... right? If those things made me happy, she wouldn't hate me for being selfish and just a teeny bit evil, would she?_  
  
Dawn wanted to believe that.  
  
One last look around, to be sure she'd closed the case properly and still had her dress tucked under her arm, then she visualized where she wanted to go.  
  
The room around her vanished in a flare of green light.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
“--So despite there being clear evidence that it was inhabited by humans in the recent past, the amount of dust in the upper atmosphere, plus the extremely low Oxygen levels, seem to point to some kind of catastrophic event that wiped out all life other than bacteria, mosses and lichens.”  
  
Jack watched as Carter went through the motions of the debriefing, relating the findings of their latest mission to General Hammond. She  _looked_  normal enough, and the voice was a close approximation of her usual tone... but he could see that underneath the veneer of professionalism she was still struggling. As tough as she was, it would take more than a few days to get over being invaded and controlled by a Goa'uld, even a self-described 'good' version such as Jolinar had claimed to be.  
  
"Do we know if this event was the result of an attack?" Hammond asked from his place at the head of the table. Carter shook her head.  
  
"There's nothing conclusive that we could discover from the area around the Gate, sir. Background radiation seemed normal, so it wasn't a 'Nuclear Winter' scenario, at least. That doesn't rule out natural causes, though. A series of supervolcano eruptions could result in what we saw, or it could have been an asteroid impact."  
  
Teal'c stirred, and gave Hammond an impassive look.  
  
"The Goa'uld have been known to employ such methods against worlds that are deemed too troublesome to conquer, yet too dangerous to ignore. Several Ha’tak motherships working in concert can redirect small asteroids with relative ease."  
  
Jack scowled at the tabletop.   
  
"Great. One more way they have to wipe us out, and unless we come up with something a lot meaner than a Shuttle, there's not a thing we can do to stop it."  
  
An uncomfortable silence weighed on them then, until Carter cleared her throat and continued with her report.  
  
"So far as useful technology, it looks like the inhabitants were somewhat more advanced than we are in some areas, a bit less so in others. Their metallurgy, for example, looks very interesting. Unfortunately, the low Oxygen means that any teams going back will need specialized equipment--possibly some light vehicles to carry spare breathing tanks and to allow the retrieval of a wider selection of samples."  
  
Hammond nodded, making several notes on the paper in front of him.  
  
"Very good, and well done, all of you." He glanced up at Carter, and his expression softened slightly. "Captain Carter, I have no complaints with your work on this mission, but if you change your mind about needing additional time to recover--"  
  
"I'm fine, sir," Carter interjected, perhaps a little too forcefully. She took a breath, and continued in a normal tone. "I mean, no, sir, I'm fully fit for duty, and Doctor Frasier has confirmed that to you already, I believe." There was something slightly brittle about her as she regarded him, though she was too proud to let anything like pleading show in her expression. The general watched her for a moment, then shot O'Neill a questioning glance.  
  
"No complaints, sir." Jack said, echoing Hammond's comment from a minute before. "I can say with confidence that Captain Carter is as ridiculously intelligent and competent an officer as she was before the... incident... and all of us have complete confidence in her." He said it in an offhanded way, as befitted something that was obvious to everyone present. Carter looked torn between being grateful for his support and embarrassed by the praise, so all was well on that front. To his credit, Hammond took him at his word, and let the matter drop without further comment.  
  
"Very well. Captain, if you have any specific suggestions for the follow-up mission team, I'd like them on my desk by the end of the day."  
  
Carter nodded, and, in the normal course of affairs, that would have been the end of the meeting. Of late, however, there had been an unofficial addition to the format. As usual, it was Daniel who spoke up first.  
  
"So... is there any word?"  
  
The general folded his hands atop the mission folder and gave them each a brief look before he answering.  
  
"All I've been told--officially--is that 'the threat remains unresolved, and all appropriate security precautions should be maintained until further notice'. Which is just another way of saying that the girl is still at large.”  
  
“And that all of us are still laughing at the egg on Maybourne’s face,” Jack added. Hammond’s lips twitched into a microsecond smile that was there and gone in an instant, even as he nodded gravely.  
  
“That too,” He agreed. “Because of the sightings, and the camera footage from the various ATM’s she’s compromised--plus the two bank vaults--it’s clear that she’s spending at least part of her time in the vicinity of Denver, and to a lesser extent Colorado Springs. That’s made certain persons in the chain of command nervous enough to authorize routing copies of all of Maybourne’s reports to me, since the only reason anyone can think of for her to stay in this area is if her plans have something to do with the SGC.”  
  
“That’s assuming she  _has_  a plan, General,” Daniel pointed out. “Other than, you know, stealing a  _lot_  of money.” He glanced at Jack. “How much is it up to now?”  
  
“The six ATM’s only added up to about a hundred and eighty thousand, but when she got tired of that and moved up to the vaults it got out of hand pretty fast.” He looked at Carter. “Last I heard it was over two million?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Two point four five million dollars in cash, total, so far. That doesn’t count all of the safe deposit boxes she emptied out while she was at it, though. I think they’re still trying to get an accurate list of what was taken from those.”  
  
Jack couldn’t help smirking.  
  
“Given how crazy she is about anything shiny, I’m guessing any jewelry that was in there now has a new home. I  _really_  wish I could follow Maybourne around and watch while he tries to keep a lid on all of this. Someone breaking into bank vaults without leaving a mark on them is the kind of stuff the cable news channels love to talk about. He must be twisting a  _lot_  of arms to keep it this quiet.”  
  
While he’d been talking, Hammond had located a particular folder from the stack in front of him. Opening it up, he passed out several densely-typed sheets.  
  
“The latest reports we have. There’s been activity in Denver, Pueblo and Colorado Springs over the last twenty-four hours. Now that the NID has their facial recognition program plugged into every surveillance camera they can find, they’re getting a fair number of confirmed sightings.”  
  
“I’ve seen some of that data, sir,” Carter said. “The problem is that the girl only has to go somewhere via car or on foot once, then she can teleport there every time after that. It makes it incredibly difficult to build up a pattern for her movements, or to try and follow her to whatever location she’s using as a home base.”  
  
Jack, despite his preference for ignoring any form of written report if at all possible, nevertheless found himself skimming the papers Hammond had given them.  
  
“Hmm. A bank manager called the cops when a homeless man came in and tried to open up a checking account,” he said, paraphrasing the report. “Turns out the guy was out three nights ago, panhandling in front of some fancy restaurant. A girl walked up, started to go inside, but stopped when he complimented her on how pretty she looked.” Jack smirked at the obvious ploy there, though of course in this girl’s case it wasn’t undeserved. “She stops, thanks him, then asks why he doesn’t have a better jacket.” Skimming ahead, he blinked, then whistled softly. “He gives her his spiel, asks her for a dollar, and according to him she ‘went all green and blurry, because the aliens used their beams to take her away’. She disappears, leaves the guy there, wondering what happened, then a minute later she blips back in. She hands him a coat and a sleeping bag, both with the tags still on them, and disappears again. He puts the coat on, wonders why the pockets are stuffed full of paper, and finds eight _thousand dollars_  in there.”  
  
Carter’s eyes went wide.  
  
“Wow. If that gets out, every single woman on the street is going to be getting a  _lot_  of random compliments.”  
  
Daniel leaned across, trying to see the report.   
  
“Did they let him keep the money? It sounds like he needed some help.”  
  
Jack scanned the rest, then shook his head.   
  
“Doesn’t say.” Skipping ahead to the next entry, he found himself grinning. “And by the way, don’t go thinking she’s all sweetness and light all of a sudden. The manager of a movie theater outside of Pueblo reported a disturbance yesterday afternoon. Seems a bunch of people were in line to get their drinks and popcorn, when somebody’s boyfriend made a little too much eye contact with an individual who’s description seems oddly familiar to me. This person, who we’ll randomly designate ‘Dawn’, apparently responded by flirting back at him... at which point his girlfriend became... upset.” He glanced up at Carter, who was already wincing. Off-the-charts brilliant or no, she was still a female too, and knew very well how they tended to respond when their territory was invaded.  
  
“Apparently there was an initial phase, with lots of insults and glaring; everyone agrees that the girlfriend was throwing ‘slut’ around a lot, and that Dawn’s response had ‘psychotic bitch’ in there somewhere.”  
  
Teal’c, who was intimately familiar with the standard modes of ritual combat, nodded sagely.  
  
“A serviceable means of initiating a duel.”  
  
Jack cocked an eyebrow at him before looking back down at the written account.  
  
“That might have been the end of it, except the girlfriend actually took a swing at her, and landed a solid slap to the face. Everyone has a different take on what happened next, but it definitely involved Dawn standing there for about five seconds, looking like she couldn’t believe that really happened. Then she threw a ‘Giganto(tm) sized’ drink in the girl’s face. Her eyes started to glow, and there was a flicker of light, and two more drinks get thrown. Then--” He frowned, reading through the next paragraph. “Well, basically there were ten or twenty seconds of flickering green light and this girl nearly getting drowned. It looks like basically anything in the whole lobby that was in a drink cup ended up in the girlfriend‘s face.”  
  
Daniel was looking a bit shocked.  
  
“Oh my god.”  
  
Jack only shrugged.  
  
“Yeah, well, teenage girls; what are you gonna do?” He flipped the page and found a somewhat grainy photo. “Hey, somebody finally got their cameraphone out. They missed the exciting part, but here’s the aftermath.”  
  
The girl looked like she was quite pretty... usually. In the picture, however, she was standing knee-deep in a pile of large, empty cups, and looked like she’d been standing under a veritable waterfall of cola and slushies. She was huddled in on herself, crying, and looked to be in shock, even as a young man who was probably the boyfriend tentatively reached out to comfort her... while trying not to get too sticky in the process.  
  
Carter, examining the photo, looked like she couldn’t decide between frowning in concern or smiling in appreciation of a battle well fought.  
  
“Well,” She ventured finally. “As retaliations go, at least it was... non-lethal?”  
  
Jack nodded in agreement.  
  
“And it’s good to know that she can spam the teleport that way. The girlfriend is lucky Dawn settled for something harmless, instead of doing real damage.”  
  
Hammond frowned at him.  
  
“Not everyone would agree with your evaluation of ‘harmless’, Colonel. Certainly not the people she’s making a habit of stealing from.” He indicated the report in front of him. “Early yesterday evening the second-largest jewelry retailer in the state was robbed. There was no sign of forced entry, but the intruder was caught on their security cameras.” He slid a series of color photographs across the table. Daniel took them, adjusting his glasses as he examined the images.  
  
“Well, that’s her all right. Nice resolution on these, by the way. I doubt the camera I use on our missions is this good.” He started to pass the photos to Carter, stopped, and took a closer look at the top one. “Wait. Is she wearing  _headphones?_  What, is she listening to music while she‘s robbing this place?”  
  
Hammond nodded.  
  
“Apparently our guest isn’t terribly concerned about getting caught.”  
  
Carter had barely glanced at the photos, she was scanning the written reports instead.  
  
“She’s got good reason to be confident, sir, since she can escape instantly whenever she likes.” Flipping the page, she continued reading. “It says here that she only took five items; a pair of earrings, a bracelet, and three rings. Only five, even though she was on camera for almost ten minutes, and opened over a dozen cases full of very expensive items.”  
  
Jack got the pictures as they were passed around the table, and snorted softly at what he saw.  
  
“Seriously, she was trying stuff  _on?_  Look at this--she’s going through them like she’s shopping, trying things on and looking at herself in the mirror.”  
  
Daniel only nodded, as if it confirmed what he’d thought all along.  
  
“It wasn’t a robbery. Or, at least not a serious one. She’s not out to maximize her profits, she just... has no regard for anyone else’s property.”  
  
Jack's half-smile faded as he regarded the girl in the photo. "Yeah, well;  _she_  might think it's all some kind of game, doing what she's doing, but eventually some cop or security guard is going to shoot her in the back instead of giving her a chance to surrender." He saw Daniel wince, and his mouth pulled into a lopsided grimace--irrational or not, the other man blamed himself for their failure to bring the girl in when they'd had the chance. If anything serious happened to her, Daniel's self-appointed guilt would escalate by a factor of a thousand.  
  
"So, hey," He said, attempting to lighten the mood a little. "Has anyone thought about just aiming a spy satellite straight down at Denver? With all the diamonds she's carrying off from these places, the sparkles alone should be enough to track her from orbit."  
  
Daniel, in that oddly literal mode he dropped into when focusing on a problem, frowned at him, then peered closely at one photo, then another.  
  
"Um, I think they're mostly sapphires and emeralds, not diamonds.... I seriously have to find out who makes these video cameras--"  
  
"Actually, sir, that's already being tried." O'Neill shot Carter an incredulous look, and she gave a tiny little exasperated motion of her head before continuing. "I mean, no, not the sparkle thing, obviously. However, the NID  _has_  requested that the  _Phaedra_  x-ray telescope be repositioned to look Earthward, and the orbital track has been adjusted to overfly Colorado." She drew a folder of her own out of the stack before her, and flipped through it until she found a particular memo. "Also, because I'm involved in some of the research being done at Area 51, I'm informed whenever significant science assets there are retasked." She glanced up at them, and tapped the memo with one finger. "At 0600 hours this morning, several truckloads of high-energy sensors and other equipment were shipped out, on their way to Schriever Air Force Base."  
  
Jack leaned back in his seat, considering that. Schriever was a smallish facility on the far Eastern edge of Colorado Springs, just fifteen miles from the Cheyenne Mountain complex. It was also the location that Maybourne had chosen as his HQ after General Hammond had successfully lobbied for the NID to be barred from using the SGC as their base of operations. On paper the reason given was something about ‘causing undue disruption to the offworld program’. The reality was more along the lines of ‘various SGC personnel are waiting for any excuse to beat the living crap out of the NID officers’.  
  
“They’re going to try to use the satellite and this other equipment to track the girl?” Hammond asked, looking intrigued despite his distaste at anything involving Maybourne. “Can they do that, Captain? Get a fix on her position by detecting some kind of energy emissions given off when she teleports?”  
  
“In a word, sir: no.” Everyone there was used to the usual scientist thing of never stating anything in absolute terms, since even really crazy-seeming things often had at least a small chance of being proven correct. In this case, however, Carter didn’t seem to see it that way. “Basically, General, given what we’ve seen so far, a tribe of Neanderthals using tools chipped out of flint would have a better chance of discovering the Neutrino. Nothing the NID can deploy is qualitatively better than the detection equipment we have set up to monitor the Stargate, and we’ve already had multiple teleport events take place, literally within arm’s reach of those sensors without giving us any readings at all.” She shrugged, looking torn between disappointment at the failure of her instruments and satisfaction at the prospect of yet more embarrassment for the NID. “The truth of the matter is, we don’t yet have the tools to deal with whatever forces are at work here. I mean, we haven’t even managed to reverse-engineer a Zat yet, and that’s one of the simpler examples of alien technology we’ve encountered. This thing that the girl, that ‘Dawn’ is doing... that’s almost certainly several orders of magnitude more complex.”  
  
Daniel predictably looked pleased by anything that seemed to favor the girl’s chances of staying uncaptured, but Jack had no choice but to inject a dose of reality into the proceedings.  
  
“Okay guys, as much as we’d all like to believe our mystery guest is harmless, and that Maybourne is going to keep tripping over himself for the next five years or so, there’s something we all need to keep in mind. As much as we dislike the man, he does know what he’s doing. The whole teleport thing might be giving him trouble, the same way it did with us, but he has a lot of experience in tracking down insurgents; all of them a lot meaner and nastier than our little Dawn could ever dream of being. And even if the tech ends up not helping, he’s got over seventy field operatives in Colorado under his direct command now, plus the ability to call on all the resources of the Air Force.” He looked at Hammond, got a grave nod of agreement, then turned to Daniel. “We’d better hope she decides to come back and talk to us. Soon. Because if he has enough time, eventually Maybourne  _will_  find her. And somehow I don’t think he’s going to be especially gentle with what comes after that.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Nearly an hour after she’d done it, the broken fingernails  _still_  hurt so badly that Dawn was nearly in tears.  
  
“Ow. Ow. Owwwwwwwwwwww!”  
  
Fresh out of the shower, still dripping despite having one towel wrapped around her body and a second twisted around her hair, she stood at the bathroom sink and finished applying a fresh set of band-aids. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped; now it was just a matter of not hitting them on anything.  
  
“Yeah, good luck with that, Dawn,” she grumbled aloud. “Fingers and hands; touching things is kind of the whole point.” And it wasn’t just the two painfully-throbbing fingertips that were the problem; her hands sported a number of other scuffs, scrapes, bruises and blisters--all courtesy of three days spent working on getting her new lair into semi-livable condition. Three days of ‘porting out junk, shoveling and sweeping and scrubbing. Then, this morning, things had been going pretty well until her hand slipped once--just  _once_ \--and the next thing she knew she’d snapped two nails off to the bloody quick.   
  
Even recalling that made her wince, and her fingers throbbed a little more fiercely. Trying not to think about it, she picked up her comb and hairdryer. Leaning out of the little bathroom she checked the door, nodding to herself when she saw it was still closed, still blocked by the chair and little writing desk that were standard issue in basically every single hotel room in the world. Switching on the dryer, she pulled the towel from her hair and lost herself in the familiar ritual of drying that luxurious mane.  
  
“All that work, and if I want to wash off the dust and dirt I  _still_  have to come here to take a shower; why am I even bothering with this?!” Even to herself she sounded petulant and whiney, so she stopped, took a breath and held it, stared at herself in the mirror and exhaled in a whoosh. “I’m ‘bothering’ with it so that I’ve got a safe place, duh! Someplace where nobody could ever find me in a million years.” Even though she was trying to be careful as she combed, she snagged her fingertip on her hair and gave an agonized little squeak. “Ouch! Damn it!” She transferred the hair dryer to her bad hand, willing to deal with the awkwardness of using the wrong hands for that half of her hair if it meant avoiding any more missteps like that one. “Besides, it’s fine,” she continued, speaking to her reflection. “There’s seriously thousands and thousands and thousands of hotel rooms that I can reach; it’s not like those military guys are going to walk into this exact one right when I happen to be using it, right?” She frowned; that seemed entirely too much like tempting fate, so she leaned out and checked the door again. It was still closed and completely undisturbed, which made her smile a little.  
  
“Looks like this dimension really  _is_  different from mine; there’s no way I would have gotten away with saying that back home.”   
  
So far as she could tell, this world was unlike her own in lots of ways, though surprisingly similar in most others. For example, there seemed to be no magic in this place at all. None of the self-proclaimed Witches or mystics she’d investigated had shown even a shred of real power, and showing them how  _she_  could wake trails of light in the air and magick open padlocks hadn’t resulted in any of them showing her something supernatural in return.   
  
In the same vein (ha ha, she cracked herself up) there didn’t seem to be a single vampire or demon anywhere, at least not within the circle of territory she could reach. After a few nights of wandering down dangerous-looking alleys and through shadowy city parks, she was now fairly sure that the only things lurking in the dark places of this world were ordinary human beings; some of them not at all nice, but all of them completely mundane.  
  
“And no Buffy,” she murmured sadly, the strokes of the comb slowing as she recalled the online searches she’d done at the library, and the dozens of phone calls to people with certain names, living in certain cities. “No mom, no dad, no Giles, or Xander, or Tara... and thank gods, no Willow.” It sort of went without saying that there’d been no counterpart for Dawn herself in this world; she hadn’t existed physically in  _any_  world until the monks took it upon themselves to create a body for her from a stolen drop of Buffy’s blood.  
  
Speaking of which....  
  
“Definitely changing,” she told herself, peering at her reflection, even leaning in close to the mirror to get a better look. She turned her head from one side to the other, then nodded. “Yep, that is not the nose I started with, two years ago in Sunnydale.” She’d had conversations with Giles, even before that fateful night on the tower, with her asking what, exactly, she was, and him throwing out his best guesses. And his theory had been that Dawn was Buffy’s twin (because ‘clone’ was  _such_  an ugly word). When she’d replied by asking why, then, was she almost seven inches taller, with completely different features, he’d spread his hands and speculated that the ritual that created her had included some deliberate ‘tweaks’ to her appearance, in order to diffuse the suspicion that a younger, identical Buffy would have prompted.   
  
“But underneath it all, I’m still a copy of her,” Dawn said softly. “And some of those ‘tweaks’ started coming unstuck not long after she died, so I’m going back to something closer to the... blueprint, I guess.”  
  
The weird thing was, she was basically okay with that. Her nose had been pretty in its own way, though it  _had_  been a little too prominent for her liking. Now, so slowly that it had taken two years for her to even notice, it was morphing into something very close to Buffy’s cute little button version. Even the height thing wasn’t that bad; it had been over a year now since she’d realized that she was losing inches, albeit very, very slowly.  
  
 _Almost three inches in about fifteen months; that puts me about halfway there, if I’m going to end up as short as she was... gods, please don’t let me end up short_ er _!_  
  
In spite of everything she found herself grinning, imagining Buffy’s glee if she’d been able to see this. So many times, Dawn had mocked her diminutive sister, and now she seemed destined to share her vertically-challenged fate.  
  
 _She would be teasing me constantly. Like, ‘Hey Dawnie, can you get those plates down for me? Awww, you can’t, can you?’ or ‘Hey Dawnie, be careful if you go outside, we haven’t mowed the yard this week and you could get lost in there!’._ She blinked, and her smile faded.  _I wish you were here, Buffy. I know you were tired, at the end, but this place doesn’t have monsters and demons. It doesn’t need you to give up everything you are to save it. There’s just me, and these stupid soldiers, and I could really use some help from my big sister... even if you would be calling me ‘Mini-me’ pretty soon._  
  
She shook her head, turned off the hair dryer and set it on the sink before picking up a pair of elastic ties. Even with her sore fingers slowing her it only took a minute to comb out her hair and tie it into a pair of unbraided pigtails.  
  
 _Probably a good thing to try and look as young and innocent as possible for this next thing--the lady renting the apartment is way older, and those usually don’t like young girls who are too sexy-looking._  
  
For the same reason she was going completely makeup-free, which, if anything, almost made her look  _too_  young. She shook off that worry, considered herself in the mirror, and finally nodded.  
  
 _It’s fine, it’s going to go fine, so just relax. Think of how nice it will be to actually have my own shower!_ She tugged lightly at a pigtail as she opened herself to the crystalline lake of power, watching her blue-green eyes begin to shimmer as she drank deeply of that energy.  _I will be so upset if my eyes end up changing color too. Buffy’s green ones were cute and everything, but mine are a million times prettier._  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
“--And right through here is the bedroom. I’m afraid there’s only the one, and it’s a little on the small side....”  
  
The old woman opened the door and stood aside so Dawn could peek into the room. It was small; barely big enough for the bed and a wardrobe. The dark wood paneling made the space a bit dim, even when she flipped on the light, though that also left the space looking warm and comfortable. Taking the one and a half steps it took to reach the bed from the door, she sat on the edge of the bed and bounced experimentally. Pleased with the result, she gave the woman a bright smile.  
  
“It’s not ‘small’, Ms. Hannon, it’s  _cozy_.”  
  
That won her a smile, and the two of them went back out into the main room. The ‘apartment’ wasn’t really that so much as it was the third floor of a large, Victorian house. That made for low ceilings, lots of dormer windows, odd nooks and cubbyholes, and a general feeling of solidity and age.  
  
“My daughter lived with me for ages, after her divorce,” Ms. Hannon said, continuing the story she’d begun earlier. “Of course, being a grown woman and all, she wanted her privacy, so we fixed all of this up for her; the bathroom is only ten years old; did you see the fixtures? Aren‘t they lovely?” Dawn nodded in agreement.  
  
“It’s a great bathroom.”  
  
“Well, so she lived here, since she couldn’t work after hurting her back. Then last year she finally got married again, and here I was, all by myself again.” There was an insistent bark from down by her ankle, and the woman carefully bent to scoop the little dog up in her arms. “Oh, I didn’t mean to forget  _you_ , little stinky! Of course I‘m not by myself so long as you‘re here!” Dawn smiled, and extended a cautious hand. The little creature sniffed at her, then yipped and started licking at her nails. With a giggle she stroked his silky ears, and scritched behind them carefully. The Pekinese gave a little doggie sigh and closed his eyes in bliss.  
  
“Uh oh, now you’ve done it!” The woman told her, smiling. “He’ll never give you a moment’s peace now; you’ll either be scratching his ears or listening to him beg.”  
  
Dawn pulled her hand back, and sure enough, the little dog’s eyes snapped open and he stared pleadingly at her, whining. She had to laugh.  
  
“Hey, I do the exact same thing, when I’m trying to get my way. Guess I can’t complain about somebody else doing it to me.”  
  
She turned in place, looking around. The third floor living quarters were in a sort of ‘H’ shape, only with one of the four arms missing. No one part of it was very big at all, but there was a compact kitchen, the aforementioned bathroom, one bedroom, a long, narrow living room that was also home to an antique dresser and mirror, and an empty space that she envisioned turning into a walk-in closet. Best of all, it came fully furnished, so all she needed to do was bring in her few boxes of things and she’d be set.  
  
“I love it.” She told the woman with complete sincerity.  
  
Ms. Hannon smiled in relief. Even if she hadn’t said so, Dawn suspected that the upkeep on such a large house was more than she could really handle on a fixed income.  
  
“You’re sure?” She asked. “I know all the stairs are a bother, and having to come in through the downstairs... well, since it was just Tina, there was no need to put in a separate door downstairs....”  
  
“It’s fine,” Dawn assured her. “Stairs are totally  _not_  an issue for me. So long as you’re okay with me creeping through on my way in or out?”  
  
The woman shook her head firmly, and the girl was struck by how spry the old gal was. For someone who looked to be in her mid eighties, she seemed amazingly energetic.  
  
“Not at all. Though of course I would have been nervous renting to a man, instead of a nice young lady like you.” She paused then, and her eyes turned just the tiniest bit stern. “Speaking of, I’ll ask you to promise  _not_  to bring any young men home with you.”  
  
Dawn drew herself up in response and nodded very primly.  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
“And there’ll be no smoking in my house.”  
  
That made her want to whine and try to argue for an exception, but the fact that she could ‘step out’ any time she wanted let her stifle the urge.  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
The woman nodded, then suddenly grew a bit uncertain.  
  
“Well then. About the rent....” She hesitated, then went on in a rush. “Would three hundred a month be all right? Because if not, I can maybe go to two hundred and fifty, or even two hundred...?”  
  
Frowning, Dawn wondered what the problem was.  
  
“I thought the sign out front said five hundred?”  
  
Ms. Hannon looked down at the dog cradled in her arms and seemed more interested in stroking his head than in meeting Dawn’s gaze.  
  
“That was before--I mean, well, there’ve been a few people who came in to look, but they all said that was much too high. So, if you’re interested in renting, I’m willing to be, uh, flexible... about the amount.”  
  
Dawn regarded her silently for several moments, wondering just how far behind in her bills the nice lady really was, now that her daughter wasn’t helping with things.  
  
“No,” she said, her tone one of finality.  
  
Ms. Hannon looked confused, then desperately disappointed.  
  
“No? I’m sorry, if two hundred is too much then maybe I can go a little lower--”  
  
“I  _said_  no,” Dawn told the woman, gently overriding her. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a thick roll of cash and started counting out hundred dollar bills. “The sign said five hundred a month, and I happen to think it’s worth every penny. So... here’s my first three months’ rent, okay?” She took hold of one unresisting hand and turned it over so that she could lay the money in her palm. “There. Now, can I start moving in today? I don’t have tons of things anyway, just a bunch of clothes, mostly....”  
  
The woman was staring at her, eyes wide. For a moment she really did look her age, with her face creased and wrinkled as she teetered on the brink of tears. Then she smiled, and was suddenly thirty years younger, and radiating joy.  
  
“Oh, you beautiful thing! Of course you can move in whenever you like! Here, come downstairs with me and I’ll get you a key to the house. Wouldn’t do much good to have the apartment if you didn’t have  _that_!”  
  
“If you say so.” Dawn murmured, following her to the door that opened directly onto a steep flight of stairs. A little more loudly she said: “Ms. Hannon? Would it be okay if I had a locksmith come and put a lock on this door? I know that your daughter didn’t need one, because it was you and her, and it’s not that  _I_  don’t trust you, it’s just that--”  
  
“No, no, it’s fine. Of  _course_  you want your privacy.” They reached the second floor, and the woman turned to look at her, a faintly anxious expression on her face. “You know, I’m sure I’m supposed to have some paperwork for you to sign, but to be honest, I have no idea where to get it, or what it’s supposed to say.” She nodded in the direction of the street outside. “I didn’t even bother with trying to put an ad in the paper, or one of those ‘apartment finder’ magazines; it all seemed so complicated. A sign out front, like back in the old days, seemed like it should be enough.”  
  
 _That’s completely perfect_ , Dawn thought to herself.  
  
“That’s completely understandable,” Dawn said out loud. “And it worked out fine. I saw it when I was driving by--” In a stolen car, at night, while filing away new and interesting and useful teleport locations. “--And I love your house, Ms. Hannon! It’s like, really really old, isn’t it?” The woman chuckled, setting down the little dog and heading down yet more stairs, carefully, but with ample energy.  
  
“Call me Wendy, if you like. And it  _is_  an old place; older than me, even, by quite a bit.”  
  
“Cool. And you can call me D--”   
  
 _Whoops. Better not get too careless, even with her. Stick to the made up name, Dawnie._  
  
“--Rachel. That’s me, Rachel Greene. Or just Rachel, like I said.”  
  
She hadn’t watched enough television here to know if  _Friends_  had been on the air in this universe. Hopefully Wendy wouldn’t think it more than a coincidence, even if she recognized the name. Entering the large, warm kitchen at the back of the ground floor, she watched as the dog, ‘Stinky-Dink’, leapt up on one of the chairs and whined at her hopefully. She smiled down at him, gave him his scritches, and looked up to find Wendy offering her a brass key.  
  
“Here you are. Now, just try not to not to startle me too much when you’re coming in, please? I don’t have any heart problems, but an old woman needs to be careful about sudden frights.”  
  
Dawn took the key she’d never need to use and slipped it into her pocket. Reassuring her new landlady was easy when she could be perfectly truthful.  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ll be in and out all the time and you’ll never even see me.”  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
Dawn appeared in the middle of what she was calling her ‘Crypt’, since it reminded her more than a little of Spike’s lair back in Sunnydale.  
  
 _Except mine is much, much more secret than his,_  she gloated to herself.  _No one is ever going to find me here!_  
  
All but one of the light fixtures were working now, thank to new florescent bulbs obtained during her many midnight raids. In fact, hardware stores across the state had suffered as a direct result of her efforts to turn the place into a respectable hideaway.   
  
There were three rooms total; a smallish break area/lunch room, with a set of men’s and women’s bathrooms lying just beyond their appropriately-marked doors. The booths and tables were straight out of the early 1970’s, with bright orange plastic and dingy white vinyl being the main elements. There was a cola vending machine standing against one wall, so ancient that even the standardized ‘Pepsi’ logo had visibly evolved since then. It didn’t work, obviously, and she had no idea how she was ever going to get it out of there, since it was hugely too big and heavy for her to teleport elsewhere. The sink beside it did work, however, and thanks to roughly twenty gallons of liquid drain cleaner, the water hardly backed up at all, anymore. The linoleum underfoot was yellowed and ugly with age, but it was also as clean as scrubbing could make it.  
  
The energies of the Lake thrumming comfortingly within her, Dawn walked to her favorite booth; the one in the far right corner, half-hidden behind the Pepsi machine, and plopped down. The room was bright, and chilly, and very, very quiet. Tilting her head back, she looked at the ceiling and tried to imagine what was happening up above.  
  
 _The Silver Mountain Ski Lodge--it’s a long way from being the nicest or newest resort in Vail, no doubt about that. On the other hand, that’s why I came to check it out. Really old buildings like this have hidden or forgotten places in them, sometimes. Places that haven’t been used in so long that nobody even knows they’re there... like this. Thirty or forty years ago, there was some kind of sun deck on this side of the resort, halfway carved out of the hillside. There was a little cafe here, where they made hot chocolate or whatever for the skiers, with this break room behind it. From what that maid told me, that all went away when the deck caught fire one night, and nearly burned the whole place down. They closed that part up instead of rebuilding it, turned the cafe into a storeroom, and forgot this part was even here._  
  
Vail was one of the more interesting parts of Colorado anyway, and  _just_  within the two hundred and forty mile circle that now defined her world, so of course she’d explored the place. A little late-night creeping through several of the older resorts had swiftly followed, with the discovery of these rooms providing her with the perfect place to establish a secure retreat.  
  
“Xander would call it his ‘fortress of solitude’,” she told the echoing silence. “I think it’s a little too solitary for my taste. I wonder if I can pick up any channels on a television if I bring one in here?”  
  
There wasn’t a television yet, but she had lots of other things. Three of the six booths were piled high with expensive clothes, and two more were littered with jewelry. A chest-high wall of shoeboxes half-hid the old corkboard where the lodge used to put notices for their employees, and two waist-length mink coats hung from the coat rack the original builders had thoughtfully provided. There were several large clear plastic storage totes full of money, also; those were stacked just inside the men’s bathroom, since she doubted she would ever have any other use for that particular area.   
  
She had a selection of ‘assemble it yourself’ furniture too; shelves and small tables to hold her various treasures, still in the boxes, waiting for her to put them together. Just the thought of dealing with more screws made her teeth clench and her fingers throb. She glared at the rechargeable drill, still lying in the corner where she’d flung it a couple of hours earlier. The door that led out to the storage room, and from there to the stairs up to the Lodge’s main level, was  _almost_  secure. That is, it was shut, and there were a dozen or so metal mending plates spaced along the edges, with long screws holding it immovably closed. There were several additional plates which she’d meant to screw into place, but that had been before her hand slipped, and well....  
  
Looking at her fingers, she saw that the two band-aids were spotted with red.  
  
 _I should change these before I go out clubbing tonight. And maybe take some things to my new place--yay me, I have a new place! With a shower and everything!_  
  
She bounced up and looked around, wondering how much she could safely transfer to Ms. Hannon’s house.  
  
 _Most of the clothes, sure. Some of the jewelry; best leave the most expensive things, though. Definitely leave the cash here, except for maybe a couple of thousand dollars of spending money._  
  
She fiddled with the slightly loose bandage on her fingertip, and searched through the clutter for a minute or so before she remembered leaving the box on the sink in the little hotel room, along with her hair dryer and comb.  
  
 _Ack! Stupid Dawn; now I’ll have to go grab all new ones. Or...?_  
  
She glanced at the round, decades-old yet perfectly functional clock on the wall.   
  
 _I’ve only been gone a little over an hour. It’s all probably still sitting right where I left it. And even if it isn’t, if some maid found it, and is standing right there wondering where they came from, no big deal, I’ll just blip right back out before she can do more than blink._  
  
She visualized the room, all bland and colorless, and wished herself there.  
  
 _FlickerSNAP_  
  
She was there, standing beside the... no, standing beside where the bed  _had_  been, an hour earlier. It wasn’t there now; and neither was the television, or the little desk and chair she’d left propped against the door. There wasn’t any furniture at all in the room now, just a few large, cases sitting open on the floor, with two men crouched beside them, facing away from her. Dawn took a reflexive step back, still trying to process the unexpected tableau. Something brushed against her back, and she whirled to find fully half the room filled with curtains of metallic strands dangling from the ceiling to nearly brush the carpet. Their ceiling attachments were lines of cable that crisscrossed the overhead in a dense pattern, with wires running down the walls and across the floor to where the men crouched. There were several large coils sitting there too; more of the cable and strands arrangement that they hadn’t yet put in place.   
  
In sheer, unthinking reflex Dawn reached out and lightly touched one of the strands, wondering why it was there. A sharp alarm wailed deafeningly, making her jump, and both of the men’s heads snapped around, their eyes locking onto hers. Almost in that same instant two more men came in through the door, both of them carrying additional cases. They dropped them when they saw her, and both reached for the odd half-rifles slung over their shoulders; oddly abbreviated-looking weapons that were all handgrip and oversized tubular barrel and not much else. Dawn flinched back, half-tripping, falling even further into the forest of dangling strands even as she mentally reached for the safety of her crypt. One of the kneeling men fumbled frantically at something in the case to which all the wires were connected, just as she Jumped.  
  
 _FlickerSNaaaaaaPPP_  
  
Dawn appeared in her sanctuary, and instantly dropped to the linoleum floor, her arms and legs twitching uncontrollably. For an endless hour--or an agonizing ten seconds or so--she was unable to breathe, her chest locked tight as every muscle clenched unbearably tight in fierce spasm. When it finally eased, she drew in a great, shuddering breath, and then rolled onto her side, coughing.   
  
 _Oh, ugh, that sucked!_  It had felt a lot like sticking her finger in a light socket when she was five--something the monks had helpfully included in the false-memory package, even though an indignant Dawn was certain she never would have  _actually_  done anything that stupid--only this had been much, much worse.  
  
 _Those dangly things; they zapped me, and if I hadn’t already been on my way out of there, I don’t think I could have managed to concentrate enough to Jump_. That thought sent chills through her, no doubt helped along by the way she was lying sprawled on a very chilly floor, in a very chilly basement, high up among very chilly mountains.  
  
Slowly, and very carefully, she pulled herself to a sitting position. Everything seemed to be back to working properly, although her pigtails looked a little frizzy now, as opposed to the silky-smooth waves of a few minutes earlier.  
  
“They tried to kill my hair, those bastards.” she whispered mournfully as she stroked it, trying the classic Xander technique of using lame humor to push fear away. It didn’t seem to help very much; her heart was still racing like crazy. “Okay, maybe I  _would_ have really put my finger in that light socket, because going back to that room was  _stupid_.” She was painfully aware that it was only because she’d gone back too soon that she’d escaped at all. If the soldiers had been able to finish assembling their trap, if the entire room had been filled with those tendrils, and they had been charged up and waiting for her to appear in the middle of them....  
  
Dawn really,  _really_  wished she had a Slayer or two to hide behind, just now. Failing that, curling up in a ball for a month or two and hoping the bad people would give up and go away was starting to look like a viable option.  
  
Scowling at nothing in particular, she climbed to her feet. Her fingers and toes were tingling almost painfully, so she pulled hard at the pure energies of the Lake and let them flood her body. That either reduced the discomfort or else just drowned it out with a different type of sensation; either way it helped, and let her think more clearly.  
  
“All right, I am so not going to hide from these clowns. They can lay scary traps for me? Fine. I just won’t ever go anywhere twice. What good does a fancy electro-web trap thingie do them then, huh?”   
  
She paced back and forth in the limited space she had, balanced almost exactly between being terrified and being furious.  
  
“They’re so stupid, they don’t even know that they don’t matter. They’re not even worth the energy it would take to hate them.” More pacing, her steps slowing as she began to calm down. “They can’t catch me. If I see them coming at me, I can be gone in half a second. I don’t have to be scared.” She stopped, leaned heavily on a fiercely-orange seventies table and bowed her head as she repeated it, much more softly.  
  
“I don’t have to be scared. I don’t.”  
  
Raising her head she looked at the door that led out to the basement. Biting at her lower lip she tried to ignore the urge, tried to tell herself it was good enough... and then she walked over and grabbed the drill anyway. There were enough of the flat metal plates screwed around the edges of the door to hold it shut against a charging rhino, but a few more wouldn’t hurt.  
  
 _Four or five more will be enough, then I’ll take some things over to Ms. Hannon’s--I mean, to Wendy’s. After that, I will go clubbing. Because I’m not scared of them.  
  
I’m not._  
  
The drill slipped, and she bashed an already much-abused fingertip painfully, starting fresh blood seeping through the band-aid. She winced, ignored it, and reached for another screw.  
  
  
* * * * *


	6. The Girl Nobody Wanted

  
  
Dawn materialized in a vacant lot in Boulder; a city-sized concentration of buildings, businesses and people northwest of Denver. It was actually close enough that there wasn’t a clear separation between the two; one simply went from the large urban center to the small urban center, without ever really seeing anything other than city in between. For Dawn, however, the distinction was sufficient, since she had never ever been inside a nightclub in Boulder. Of course that also meant that she couldn't visualize a teleport location inside any of the places there, so the best she could do was a spot she’d memorized while on one of her midnight scouting drives. Looking around, she saw that she was right on target; the lot where she stood was diagonally across the intersection from what was supposed to be one of the nicer clubs in Colorado.  
  
 _I hope it is; I don't really feel like sleeping with Colton tonight--I'm still all nervous and twitchy from that ambush. But I don't want to hide in my room and cringe at every random noise all night either._  
  
That was absolutely what she'd been heading towards--she'd been trembly and nauseous for more than an hour after that ambush, and hadn't stopped adding additional screws and reinforcement plates to the Crypt's door until the battery of her drill ran out of charge. Faced with the prospect of a night spent hiding and crying, she'd opted instead to do what Faith had taught her to do in situations like this--lose herself in a crowd... and distract herself from any thoughts of fear or guilt with dancing and alcohol. And so, after teleporting back to her brand new apartment with an armload of clothes and supplies, she'd spent about seventy minutes getting ready, then come directly here.  
  
She glanced down at her stylish outfit, and used both hands to smooth her hair back from her flawlessly made-up face.  _It's going to be fine. I'm going to dance, and drink, and dance some more, and tons of good-looking guys are going to pay attention to me, and tell me I'm gorgeous, funny, and sexy, and I will have a great time. And before I know it, I'll have forgotten all about those stupid goons with their crew cuts and zap guns and electro-webs._  
  
She made her way carefully through the piles of dirt and debris that comprised the landscape of the lot, slipped through a gap in the waist-high wall of screening weeds, and finally reached the sidewalk. Pausing to brush at her dress, she made sure nothing icky from the weeds had attached itself, then walked to the corner and waited for the light to change. The bright ball of the sun was balanced on the rim of the mountains that loomed in the west, the warmth of day beginning to fade towards chill. When the light changed she made her way across the street, her club-wear and her body attracting a few admiring looks along the way.  
  
 _Not really that easy to forget about the scary goons with crew cuts, though,_  she noted uneasily as she walked, casting furtive glances at the various men who were appreciatively eyeing her. A lot of them  _had_  really short hair, were trim and fit, and had that certain way of carrying themselves that screamed ‘Military’.  
  
 _There are way too many Air Force bases in this state. If I panic and run every single time I see somebody who looks like that, I’ll go crazy in no time, but I can’t ignore them either, because any of them_ might _actually be the ones that are after me_.  
  
Trying to keep an eye out in all directions without being too obvious about it, she headed towards the club entrance, only to stop short in surprise as a tiny bit of white, wind-borne fluff drifted past her face. Turning her head, she watched as it floated along, bounced up and down as an errant breeze toyed with it, then swirled its way out into the street to vanish among the passing cars. Looking up, she saw two more, much higher off the ground and well out of reach, drifting serenely through the gathering evening.  
  
 _They look kind of like bits of dandelion fluff, only a lot bigger; like, almost ping-pong ball sized._  No one else seemed to notice them, or think them strange if they did, so she forced herself to stop staring.  _Either we just didn’t have those in California, or we didn’t have them in Sunnydale’s universe at all. Too bad; ’cause they’re pretty._  
  
She continued on, heels clicking as she made her way to the front of the club.  
  
 _Tryst_  was a medium-sized place, and looked nice enough; at least from the outside. Although evening was coming on quickly, it was early enough that there wasn’t a line to get inside. Dawn presented herself to the doorman, gave him her best look of bored resignation when he asked for her I.D., and handed over a driver’s license. It was a pretty good one; she had finally found someone who could do decent work, and it wasn’t like money was an issue for her. The doorman checked the photo against her face, visibly considered her obvious youth, balanced that against her unconcern (and hotness), and eventually handed it back to her, waving her past. She gave him a megawatt smile that would have put Cordelia’s best effort to shame, and breezed inside.  
  
She was desperately in need of some attention; she knew from experience that few things were as awful as being ignored, unloved and alone.   
  
  
* * * * *  
  
794 Days Ago:  
  
She wondered why more people hadn't come to see her.  
  
After Buffy threw herself off of Glory's junk tower, after she... died... Dawn had crawled into her bed, buried herself under the covers, and pretty much stayed there for the next four days, crying. And sure, during that time Tara had looked in on her occasionally, coaxing her with endless patience and gentle sympathy into drinking a little water or cola, and eating at least a few crackers and some soup to keep up her strength. And yes, Willow visited a couple of times too, briefly, though her eyes were red from her own tears and she found little to say. Other than that, though, Dawn was left alone, and in between bouts of crying and long spans of time that were closer to unconsciousness than sleep, she found a few minutes here and there to wonder why.  
  
Of  _course_  the others were grieving too; Buffy had been their friend, and she'd been at the center of their lives for years. Dawn understood that, she knew they missed her too, it was just that....  
  
Well, it was just that she missed Buffy  _more. Dawn_  was the one who'd grown up with Buffy. Dawn was the one who'd been with her every day for an entire lifetime. And Dawn was the one who shared her blood--in some ways she was closer to Buffy than if she'd been her child. Dawn loved her fiercely, and Buffy loved her back, more than anything, more than life itself, as she’d proven at the end. Given all that, it felt wrong that the others hadn't come to console her, and make sure she was okay. That wasn’t too self-centered a thing to want... was it?   
  
She was pretty sure it wasn’t.   
  
Sometime around noon on the fifth day, Dawn stared at the ceiling of her room, screwed up her courage, and dragged herself out of bed. She took a shower, tied her still-damp hair back in a ponytail, got dressed, and made her way downstairs.  
  
It was agonizing. Brutal. She kept  _remembering_ ; the look on Buffy's face when she realized that she could use her life, instead of Dawn's, to close the dimensional rift. The sound of her voice, the last time she’d spoken. The delicate, loving strength in her arms when she hugged Dawn, and then let go, turned, ran, and leapt. Flashes of that kept hitting her when she least expected it, and every time it was like being punched in the belly. She'd cried twice during her shower; she cried again when she reached the top of the stairs, and remembered all the times she'd seen Buffy standing there, with her arms full of laundry, or on her way out to the Bronze in a sexy outfit, or on her way back upstairs with messy hair and a blood-streaked face, just back from her nightly patrol.   
  
Dawn had meant to get something to eat from the kitchen, but by the time she got there she'd changed her mind. The house was too full of Buffy memories, and she had to get out of there before the grief overwhelmed her again.  
  
"Tara? Willow?"   
  
Her soft calls went unanswered. Tara  _had_  mentioned that they would be out for a while; something about needing things from an electronics store for some project Willow was working on. She left, locking the empty house behind her, and made her way towards the street. Another flash stabbed at her, the memory of her and Buffy both helping Joyce get the yard into shape, not long after they'd moved to Sunnydale. Both of them had whined and complained about being forced into manual labor, but when their mother put her foot down, they'd sullenly obeyed. An hour later, when she'd gone inside to get them all some iced tea, Dawn had the bright idea to grab a double handful of the potting soil from around the newly-planted flowers and throw it full into Buffy's face. When Joyce came back outside a minute later, she found her older daughter calmly wiping dirt from her forehead and cheek... and Dawn's legs kicking furiously in the air from where she'd been dumped, headfirst, into the thickest part of the front hedge.   
  
Dawn came back to herself, still standing in the yard like a slowly listing statue, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
 _I just wanted you to notice me_ , she told the memory of her sister.  _We weren't even all the way moved in here, and you were suddenly friends with Willow and Xander, and having adventures and fighting monsters and saving the world... and most of the time I was either stuck helping mom, or hiding in my room reading a Harry Potter book or something_. She glanced at the dense shrubs, at the spot where she'd hung till Joyce had managed to fish her back out again.  _Even that was better than nothing; any attention is better than nothing at all_.  
  
She turned away, arms folded tight across her middle, and this time managed to make it to the street. Turning left, she followed the sidewalk towards downtown Sunnydale... such as it was.  
  
* * * * *  
  
That short walk left Dawn feeling even more confused than before.   
  
People acted like everything was normal.  
  
They acted like everything was  _fine_.   
  
Everyone was walking or driving around, talking and smiling and  _laughing_ , and watching it made her wonder if she'd somehow been transported to some alien planet while she was shut up in her room. Everything  _wasn't_  fine--how could it be, when Buffy was dead?   
  
 _How can they not know?_  she wondered, staring around with her red, tear-smudged eyes.  _When she graduated, they told her that they’d known; they’d known she was there, fighting to keep them safe. So how can all of these people act like nothing happened, when she_ died  _for them?_  
  
And yet that's exactly what they were doing. Dawn backed up a step, then another, dangerously close to barfing right there on the sidewalk, and when she bumped into a monstrous SUV parked in front of the ice cream shop, she leaned against it gratefully. Inside the shop she could see a well-dressed couple sitting with three young children, all of them smugly spooning down their sugary confection of choice.  
  
Another memory, hitting her with the sudden brutality of a club to the head:  
  
 _My twelfth birthday was here. Mom was out of town, so Buffy and Xander and Willow brought me here. Xander ate so much ice cream he got sick, and I did too because I bet him I could eat just as much. And then Faith showed up, and grinned at Willow in that nasty way of hers, and I didn't understand why Willow was grinding her teeth like that, and looking so upset at the way Faith was sitting so close to Buffy that their hips were touching._  
  
Dawn closed her eyes, remembering that scene.  
  
 _Oh, Faith. God, everything about her was amazing. I had such a huge crush on her--almost before I even knew what a crush_  was. _Every time she looked at me my heart skipped, and she gave me a birthday present too, even if Buffy took it away from me almost as soon as I unwrapped it._  
  
The dagger had been small and delicate, inlaid with spooky runes and various oddly-shimmering metals, and it had been far, far sharper than a razor. Buffy had taken one look at it and nearly exploded.  
  
 _Something about it belonging to a super nasty demon they'd killed, and how they were supposed to give things like that to Giles, so he could destroy them... except what really had her upset was that Faith had tried to give it to_  me.  
  
Her sister had taken it away, ignoring Dawn's tantrum, and Faith had only shrugged like she didn't care one way or the other. Still, the next day she'd had a replacement gift ready: a designer label jacket that had Dawn giddy with joy as she tried it on. Buffy had looked like she wanted to take that one away too, obviously suspecting Faith had obtained the very expensive item through less than legal means. In the end, though, she'd let it pass, and Dawn's infatuation with the wild and beautiful Slayer had only intensified.  
  
Not that anything ever came of it, of course. Even if Faith was less than four years older, they were a significant four years, and the girl never treated her as anything other than a slightly amusing kitten or puppy. Besides, all of Faith's attention and energy were reserved for Buffy, and even Dawn had been keenly aware of the sexual tension between the two of them.  
  
In the here and now, leaning against the SUV on an obnoxiously sun-drenched street, Dawn sighed softly.  
  
 _None of that matters. Nobody's seen Faith since that body-switching thing... which is too bad, 'cause I could really use a 'cheer up, Dawn' present or two, even if they_  were  _evil relics or things she shoplifted for me._  
  
She stood up straight, glancing ruefully at her red eyes and puffy face reflected in the car window... then paused, peering inside the ostentatious vehicle. There, sitting in plain view on the rear seat, was a stuffed animal; a little lavender unicorn, with wide cheerful eyes and a pink streak in her purple mane.  
  
" _Ooooh_ , so  _cute!_ ” She glanced furtively from side to side, then back over her shoulder at the family inside the shop. They were occupied with their ice cream, and nobody else seemed to be paying attention.   
  
 _I_  deserve  _a cheering up present, after all of the horrible things that have happened to me. Soooo.…_  
  
She gave the door handle a surreptitious tug.  
  
 _Locked. Totally unfair_.  
  
She tried it again, to no avail.  
  
 _Stupid brats. They have ice cream, and parents, and a whole life ahead of them with not a single evil demongoddess trying to murder them. They won’t ever have to watch their sister die in their place. The least they can do is give me one little stuffed animal._  She stared longingly at the little purple equine, her face clouding as she clamped her lips tight to keep from giving voice to a very loud tantrum as she yanked at the door over and over again.  _I_  want  _it! I should_  have  _it! Give it to me!_    
  
She didn’t exactly know to whom she was directing those silent words; the universe at large, probably, which was of course an utterly pointless thing to do. Realizing the absurdity of what she was doing, she stopped and took a breath.  
  
“God, grow up a little, Dawn,” murmured to herself. “You’re fifteen, not five.” With a sullen little sigh, and a last look into the vehicle, she tugged at the handle once more, even as she was turning to leave....  
  
There was a  _click_ , and the door of the SUV opened a few inches. Dawn blinked, stared at the gap, blinked again, then hastily checked all around. The family was still oblivious, the coast was still clear. With a quick little dive, she leaned in, scooped up the toy and pulled herself back out again. Pressing the door closed till it clicked, she tucked her prize under one arm, turned, and walked quickly away, a triumphant smile on her face.  
  
 _Yay! Mineminemineminemine! Mine!_  She slowed when she reached the end of the block, turned the corner, and proceeded at a more natural pace. Taking the unicorn from under her arm, she held it to her chest and hugged it tight with both arms, burying her face in the soft lavender fur.  
  
 _See? I_  do  _feel better now. I needed it_  much  _more than whoever it used to belong to._  
  
That thought carried her forward for another block or so, but then she started to think about what had just happened.  
  
 _That door was locked. I mean, it_  was  _locked... wasn’t it?_  
  
She’d certainly thought so. And yet, at the end, when she had really, really,  _really_  wanted it to open, it had. Was that just a coincidence, or something more?   
  
Dawn stopped and looked around her. The Espresso Pump was nearby, and next to it was Sunnydale’s one used book store. Someone had left their bike chained to the telephone pole in front of the store, with a combination lock holding the chain in place. Slowly, hesitantly, with absolutely no expectation of  _anything_  actually happening, Dawn walked to the bike, reached out her hand, and touched her fingertips to the cool metal.  
  
 _Um.... Unlock? Open sesame? Alohomora?_  Nothing happened, and she frowned.  _Okay, either I was imagining things before, or I’m just so clumsy I can’t even open a car door on the first five tries, or_.... She tugged gently at the chain, and this time she wished it open, trying to concentrate on the lock actually popping open beneath her hand.  
  
 _Click._  
  
The locked popped open beneath her hand.  
  
Dawn jerked her hand away, stared at the now-dangling chain and lock, and just stared for a few moments. When she spoke, it was in a sad little whisper.  
  
“I’d still rather have my sister. But if I can’t have her, then this is way, waaaaay better than not having anything at all.”  
  
She clutched her unicorn to her with one arm, grabbed the loose chain, and headed for the Magic Shoppe at a quick walk.  
  
She couldn’t  _wait_  to show this to Giles.  
  
* * * * *  
  
“ _What?_ ”  
  
She’d found him in the room behind the store, the one where Buffy had done her Slayer training. The Watcher had been boxing up some of the weapons and equipment, the items which had been Buffy’s most favorite or most hated. He’d been so lost in what he was doing that it took three tries before he finally registered what she was trying to show him.  
  
“I know, right?” She said, smiling just a little at his started expression. “All I have to do is touch something that locks, and wish really hard for it to  _un_ lock.” She picked up the little padlock she’d taken off of a fence gate on the way over, pushed it closed once more, then held between two fingers as she showed him again.  
  
 _Click_.  
  
The lock popped open. She looked up at him, waiting for the  _Ooooh, Ahhh_  that the trick deserved.   
  
What she got instead was a cold, intense, serial-killer stare that closed her throat and sent a strange little chill racing down her spine.  
  
“Come with me.” He took hold of her wrist and pulled her after him without waiting for her to answer, or even properly get her feet underneath her.  
  
“Hey!” She was dragged across the room, down the short passage that connected to the Magic Shoppe, then to the front of the store.   
  
“Ow. You’re hurting me, Giles.” He seemed not to hear her, and when she tried to pull away his grip on her wrist only tightened. “ _Ow!_ ”  
  
There were no customers in the shop, and without a word he locked the front door and flipped the sign in the window around to show ‘Closed’ to the outside. Moving to the counter, he pulled her along behind him, ignoring her increasingly frantic attempts to get free.  
  
“Giles, what are you--?” She broke off when he used his free hand to reach beneath the counter and bring two objects into view. One was a small, colorless lump of smooth quartz.  
  
The other was a knife.  
  
Dawn’s vision narrowed down to just that knife, and perspiration beaded every inch of her body as her pulse went wild.  
  
 _More knives, more cutting. Glory, and the sick, slow swaying of the tower as that horrible little gray man came towards her, smiling all the while._  
  
“Giles, you’re scaring me.”  
  
Which was an understatement if ever there was one, but it was all she could find to say. With her wrist still held immobile, he turned her hand so that it was palm up, and set the quartz there.  
  
“Close your hand around it,” He told her, his voice flat.  
  
“What are you going to--”  
  
“Close your  _hand_  around the stone, Dawn.” He snapped at her, his eyes locking on hers. He didn’t seem to care that she was pale and shaking with fear, or that her grief-worn eyes had somehow found a few more tears to shed. She closed her fingers around the clear lump. He tightened the already bruising grip on her wrist, lifted the knife, and put the tip of it on her forearm. A whimper slipped from her as he slowly drew the tip across her skin in a very shallow slice, about an inch long. Droplets of her blood welled forth, then rand around and down her arm to the countertop as gravity pulled them.   
  
Giles muttered something she didn’t catch, something Latin-ish, and shifted his grip on the knife to one better suited for stabbing. Dawn didn’t dare struggle, and after half a minute spent holding her there and ignoring her ragged breathing and quiet sniffles, the man spoke once more.  
  
“Open your hand.”  
  
She did so, fingers trembling. The stone was still clear, but somewhere in its depths, a single, tiny spark of green flickered and danced, barely visible in the light of the shop’s interior.  
  
Giles stared at the stone, then let go of the breath he’d been holding, and of her wrist as well. Dawn snatched it away and edged back from the counter, her eyes full of disbelief and hurt.  
  
“What was  _that_  about?!”  
  
He shook his head, setting the knife down on the counter with exacting care.  
  
“Forgive me, Dawn. I--” He took off his glasses, but instead of cleaning them he just stared at them for a moment, then rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said again, not meeting her accusing stare. “I reacted badly, I know, but I had to be sure.” He picked up the quartz and studied it, then set it in a square of cloth and bundled it up. When he was done, he finally raised his eyes to hers. “We paid too high a price to let it happen now, by accident.” He nodded at the cloth-wrapped stone. “If your power as the Key were truly active, then it would show clearly in the crystal, even here, where we are some distance removed from the closest nexus in both space and time.”  
  
Dawn wasn’t sure she understood exactly what he was saying; her wrist hurt, and blood was still trickling from where he’d cut her arm.  
  
“There was a little bit of green in there,” she said carefully, bracing herself to run if he looked like he was going to go psycho again. He shook his head in dismissal.  
  
“A trace, nothing more. Whatever splinter of the Key’s energies are accessible to you, they pose no threat.” He looked down, laid his hand atop the knife’s handle, and let out a slow, controlled sigh. “No threat.”   
  
With that he put the blade and the stone away beneath the counter and tried to assume his usual air of slightly aloof friendliness.  
  
“I expect the Council will be interested in studying this phenomena, and I’ll be returning to England soon in any case; would you be willing to accompany me?”  
  
* * * * *  
  
“--So I told him I’d think about it, the got out of there as fast as I could,” She said, looking across to where Spike was sitting, listening attentively. “I know now that it was just a test he had to do, and that he wouldn’t really have hurt me, but it was still _really_  creepy.”  
  
The vampire was giving her an odd look, eyes wide, eyebrows as high as they would go.  
  
“’Wouldn’t really have hurt you’?” He shook his head sadly, then shot her a sympathetic look. “You really  _are_  an innocent little thing, aren’t you? All shiny, and new, and no idea just how nasty people can be when push comes to shove.”  
  
She frowned at him, not liking it at all when he made fun of her, even if it  _was_  in a basically kind and gentle sort of way.  
  
“I’m  _not_  stupid.”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“Never said you were. I’m just saying, people don’t usually show you all there is to them; at least not on purpose. Now, you might think of your librarian as a kind-hearted, mild-mannered, overly-educated fellow who’d only fight or kill someone when the cause was all noble and the fight was basically fair, right? At least so long as it was a person, and not a demon.” He grinned at her, acknowledging that creatures such as himself fell into the latter category. “Thing is, that’s only the part he  _wants_  you to see.”  
  
Dawn looked at him, cradling her aching wrist even as she drew her unicorn plushie up to where she could hug it.  
  
“It’s  _Giles_. What else is there to see?”  
  
He looked away, using the excuse of locating his cigarettes and pulling one from the pack to avoid her gaze.  
  
“The part of him that was all set to kill you just then, Nibblet, if you‘d failed that test.” His voice was gentle, as if that could cushion the impact of the words. “When Glory had you, and we knew that we probably couldn’t stop her before she did the thing where the walls all fell down... Giles tried to talk Buffy into killing you.” He looked at her, saw her stricken look, and shrugged. “It made sense, from where he was standing: take away the Key and she wouldn‘t have been able to do anything but rant and rage. And remember, they teach Watchers that their Slayer’s going to die sooner or later. They spend years hearing about how sacrifices have to be made, ‘for the greater good’ and all that shite. If the other option was letting the HellBitch kill  _everyone_ , then killing one little girl starts to look like a cheap way out, y’know?”  
  
Dawn felt numb... except for the sick terror that was twisting her insides into knots. She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to know.  
  
“What did Buffy say? When he told her that, what did she say?”  
  
He grinned at her.  
  
“She said to sod off; told us all that she’d kill anyone who so much as tried to touch you.”  
  
Dawn slumped, embarrassed to have even suspected her sister would agree to such a thing, and yet immensely relieved to hear it refuted by someone who had actually been there. She squeezed her little unicorn tighter; at this rate the poor thing would be a shapeless ball of compacted fuzz by the end of week.  
  
“And you think Giles might have actually... done something? To me, I mean. If the test showed that I was getting all my Key powers back?”  
  
Spike lit his cigarette, took a drag, then exhaled the smoke from his dead lungs.  
  
“He killed Glory. She was looking like that Ben bloke, all her strength gone, bashed down by Buffy and that hammer, as helpless as a baby. He thought nobody saw, or heard, but I did.” He met her eyes, and held them. “He knelt there, reached down, and held his nose and mouth closed till he suffocated, and took the HellBitch with him.” Spike took another drag. “Can’t really say I disagree with that bit.”  
  
Dawn nodded slowly. She absolutely preferred a dead Glory to a live one, especially with no Slayer around if the HellGoddess decided to start things all over again.  
  
“I’m okay now though, right? He knows I’m not a danger, so I’m okay.”  
  
Spike shrugged.  
  
“I expect so. Not that I’d be in any hurry to go back with him to England. There’s probably somebody in the Watcher’s lodge hall or whatever that’s just aching to cut you up and see what makes you tick. Probably got an old key, all covered in runes and rhinestones, just waiting to have your green glowy bits sealed up inside it and put in a trophy case on their mantel.”  
  
That was a terrifyingly vivid image, and once she could absolutely believe.  
  
“Stay here, no matter what he says; right, got it. It‘s probably a good thing that he‘s leaving, now that I know what he wanted to do. Even if he was the closest thing me and Buffy had to a dad, all these years.” She tried to find at least a semi-cheerful smile, for herself more than Spike. “At least I’m not  _all_  alone, though, right? There‘s still you, and Willow, and Xander, and Tara, and Anya.” She stopped, frowning, when she saw that he was shaking his head again and giving her that  _look_. “What? They all like me; they all  _love_  me.” Oddly, she‘d been a lot surer of that before she‘d said it out loud. “I’ve known them forever; they all _babysat_  me, for God’s sake... even when I was way too old to actually need it.”  
  
“They loved you when they still thought they  _had_  known you and watched over you for years, Dawn.” He finished his cigarette, regarded the butt, then flicked it away with an air of finality. “Once they found out it was all a spell, some of them still liked you, but the rest mostly went along because they knew it’s what Buffy wanted. Now that she’s gone....”  
  
She stared at him.  
  
“B-but... in the movies, and books, and television, people are sad for the girl who loses everything. They take  _care_  of her.”  
  
He looked back at her, and she could see that he did care for her, even as he replied with his typical brutal honesty.  
  
“This isn’t the movies, Dawn. If you’re not careful, some of them might start thinking that the Slayer would still be here, if not for you. As unfair as that is, they might start to blame you. With Xander or the others, that wouldn’t be much bother. But if Willow starts down that road....”   
  
The little purple unicorn was crushed to within an inch of its cheery-eyed life.  
  
* * * * *  
  
793 Days Ago:   
  
“Are you kidding, Dawnster? Of  _course_  we can use your help!” Xander’s grin was so infectious that she had to grin back, even though her grief was still dragging at her, and now there was the fresh uncertainty of how everyone really felt about her, layered on top of all the rest. “With Giles bailing out on us and heading back to the ol’ ancestral castle or whatever, Anya’s all excited about taking inventory of every single thing in the shop.” He indicated his own, dust-streaked person as proof positive that was a massive undertaking. “If you feel like giving me a hand down in the cellar, I’d feel a lot safer.” He extended both hands towards her, stiffening his arms and making clumsy grasping movements. “I swear some of those mummy parts are trying to crawl out of the crates and come after me; how about you grab a dust pan and a bucket, and we can go get ‘em under control?”  
  
Dawn nodded happily, grateful to be accepted unquestioningly by at least one of the Scoobies, even if it did mean she would have to get all dusty and dirty.  
  
“No problem. And wait till I tell you what I found out yesterday.” He looked at her curiously as they headed towards the stairs to the storage cellar.  
  
“Found out?”  
  
She winced a little at her choice of words; telling them that she knew about the aborted ‘let’s murder Dawn’ plan was not on her list of things to do.  
  
“Found out I could  _do_ , I mean. It’s my own super-special Dawn magic, and I don’t even need to say words or wave a wand to make it work!”  
  
He smiled at her, caught up in her enthusiasm even if he had no idea what she was talking about.  
  
“Okay, I’m officially intrigued; tell me all about it.”  
  
She trotted down the stairs, with Xander close behind, and as they got to work with the cleaning and sorting and counting, she began describing what she could do.  
  
* * * * *  
  
792.95 Days Ago  
  
“ _Get out!_ ”  
  
Dawn edged back, more than a little shocked at the vehemence in Anya’s voice, not to mention the utterly serious death glare the woman was aiming her way. All she had done was demonstrate her tiny little Key power while she and Xander were taking a break from their work.  
  
“Anya, I don’t understand what--”  
  
“You are no longer welcome in this establishment,” Anya said loudly, her tone that of someone who would tolerate no discussion or appeal.  
  
“Anya, hon,” Xander said, attempting to discuss and appeal. “It isn’t like we don’t know her; she’s Dawn. You know, the DawnMeister?” The glare those comments earned him were enough to make him wince and fall back. Still, he forged gamely on. “She’s helping us out with the inventory, the least you could do is try to be nice to--”  
  
“Begone!” Anya snapped at Dawn, ignoring her Fiancé. “You’re probably just helping so that you know exactly what to steal when you come back; isn’t that right?!”  
  
Dawn stared at her in confusion.  
  
“What?” She hadn’t even told them about toynapping the little unicorn, or any of the other small items she’d taken over the last few months. She wondered now if Anya had suspected her all along, when the occasional small, shiny item went missing.  
  
“Oh, sure, you’re  _completely_  innocent,” the former demon snarled. “And yet somehow you have magic that’s specifically  _designed_ to steal things from hard-working store owners!” If Dawn hadn’t known that all of Anya’s powers were gone, she would swear that her eyes were glowing with faint demonic flame. “You’ll sneak in here after we‘ve closed, no matter how many locks are on the door, and you’ll take very rare and expensive items from our inventory--which our insurance will  _not_  pay to replace--and then you’ll be here during the day and slip your greedy little hands into the cash register whenever my back is turned and take all the lovely money and for that matter not even the safe under the bed in our apartment is safe even if that word is the name they use for it and you’re just dying to take my twelve thousand shares of Apple (which might not be worth much  _now_  but I know an Oracle who gives me tips and just you wait) and it is completely un _acceptable_  that you can just tap things with your fingers and take all of that away from me!”  
  
Even Anya had to pause for breath eventually, and when she did Dawn tried to reassure her that she wouldn’t do any of those things.  
  
“I would  _never_  do any of those--”  
  
“ _I won’t stand for it!_ ” Anya cried, in her scariest, most vengeancy voice. “You are not welcome in my store or in my apartment or within two hundred yards of me or Xander because I am going to get a restraining order first thing in the morning!”  
  
She stopped, still glaring that glare, and even though Xander was wringing his hands and trying to gently pat the woman on the shoulder and say soothing things, Dawn could see that Anya wasn’t going to allow herself to be moved. Not on this.  
  
“It’s fine,” She told them, aiming the words mainly at Xander. “Someone told me this might... that you might feel like I was....” She shook her head, unable to find words that weren’t bitter. “It’s fine,” She said again, as she turned and walked to the front door of the store. When she passed through and let it close behind her, she couldn’t help hoping that Xander might come rushing after her. She’s always liked him so much, even had a little bit of a crush on him way back when. She listened for him as she walked slowly away, for the sound of the bell over the Magic Shoppe’s door... but it never came.  
  
* * * * *  
  
791 Days ago.  
  
“Nobody would have killed you, Dawnie.” Tara’s voice was always soft, always kind, and now was no different. “Spike is just upset; he’s angry because Buffy’s gone, and he loved her so much.”  
  
Dawn was sitting on her bed in the Summers’ house, with Tara sitting almost knee to knee with her.  
  
“Everybody loved her,” She agreed softly.  
  
“They did.” The woman plucked vaguely at the bedspread between them. “Willow’s taking it  _really_  hard. Even if she didn’t realize it for a long time, she’s been in love with Buffy forever. You know, like, in a girl loves girl way.” Even now, Tara was still shy enough to be uncomfortable when talking about such things. Dawn considered the idea of Willow and Buffy in a romantic relationship, and even though it wasn’t something she’d ever contemplated, the notion didn’t shock her.  
  
“I can see them together, I guess. Only they never did anything?”  
  
Tara shook her head.  
  
“No. By the time she was ready to admit it, she was with me, and Buffy was always running after some guy; Angel, or Riley, or whoever.”  
  
Dawn couldn’t help smirking a little.  
  
“Faith was after her, and she didn’t care  _who_  was in the way.”  
  
Tara’s expression was one of distaste.  
  
“Faith was terrible; she wanted to own Buffy, to twist her into another version of herself. Willow would have loved her...  _did_  love her, dearly, even if they never so much as kissed.” She looked heartbroken herself, on behalf of her lover. “It’s so sad that the one who loved Buffy the most never got the chance to show her how much she cared. And now it’s too late. “  
  
Those words, no matter how sincere and lovely, made Dawn bristle.  
  
“Wait. ‘The one who loved Buffy the  _most_ ’?”  
  
Tara looked at her for several seconds, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.  
  
“Oh Goddess, Dawn, I’m sorry. I just meant--I mean, Willow knew her for so much  _longer_ , so it’s different for her than for--”  
  
“ _I_  knew Buffy longer! I knew her my whole  _life!_  How is fifteen years not longer than five--?” Tara was looking down at the bed, her hair hiding her face, that hand plucking furiously at the covers. “Oh. Oh, I get it. My time with her doesn’t count. My years of knowing my sister, of growing up with her and fighting with her, and loving her... those aren’t  _real_  enough for you, are they?”  
  
Tara looked up at her, those oh-so-kind eyes full of compassion.  
  
“I know they  _seem_  real to you, Dawnie, but we know the monks--”  
  
“--Made me. Yeah; I know.” She let herself fall back onto the bed, so that she was looking at the ceiling. “I’m a lie. A made-up person in the shape of girl, and everything I think I know is just pages torn out of some magic book and pasted over a mannequin until it sort of  _looks_  like a person... but it never will be.”  
  
She heard a soft sigh, then--  
  
“Dawn, we care about you, we do. It’s just going to take some time for us to get past what--”  
  
“I think I’m ready to go to sleep now,” she told the ceiling in a flat voice. “Please stop talking and go away.”   
  
* * * * *  
  
789 Days Ago:  
  
“I still can’t believe you’re helping me  _do_  this.”   
  
"Actually, pet, I'm not."  
  
"Huh?" Dawn spun around to see Spike still in the doorway that let out onto the backyard, leaning against some invisible barrier. "Oops. I forgot all about that." She glanced around nervously at the shadow-draped living room. There was no  _way_  she was going to try and rob the place without him being inside with her, but since she didn't live here, her invitations wouldn't count. The vampire was barred from entry, even if she  _had_  been able to unlock the physical door.  
She paused, and examined that thought.  
  
 _He's locked out because of some magical rules that say Vampires can't come into houses. Is that invisible wall or door something I can mess with?_  She couldn't decide if that should work or not. Spike folded his arms across his chest and looked at her, still leaning casually against the barrier. Dawn edged around the overly-ornate coffee table, tip-toed across the gleaming hardwood floor, and stopped in front of where he stood. Reaching out with tentative fingers, she touched the frame of the open door and _wished_.  
  
Spike fell forward, barely catching himself in time to avoid an undignified sprawl on the floor. Dawn met his scowl with a smug, gleeful smirk, and he moved past her, doing his best to pretend that hadn't happened.  
  
Reassured that he would be there if she needed him, she took a closer look around the huge living room, which was full of designer furniture, designer lamps and expensive knick-knacks, taking it all in as best she could while peering through darkness relieved only by the beam of a small flashlight. Motion to one side made her jump, but it was only Spike returning.  
  
“Found the wine rack,” He announced, raising an uncorked bottle to his lips as proof. He took a long drink, lowered the bottle, and belched happily. “Not bad.” He prowled around the edge of the room, then waved her towards the stairs leading up, ascending them with her, shoulder to shoulder.  
  
“And why shouldn’t I help you?” He asked, after another swig. She shrugged, still peering nervously around, expecting the owners--or the police--to spring out at any second.  
  
“I guess because it’s not something anyone else would help me do? I mean, none of the others really want me around at all, now, and even if they did, and I asked them, they’d probably send me to therapy or something.”  
  
Spike snorted, peered down the hallway to the left and right, then led her left.  
  
“What makes you think this  _isn’t_  therapy?”  
  
Dawn stopped short, in front of the doorway to an obscenely large and well-appointed bathroom.  
  
“ _What?!_ ”  
  
He smiled his little smile at her, the one that was equal parts kindness, insight, and utter smartass.  
  
“Sure. Listen. You lost something; the biggest something anyone  _can_  lose. Now, if breaking into places you’re not supposed to be and filling your pockets up with other people’s things makes you feel better, I say go for it.” He gestured broadly around them with the wine bottle, then took another drink. “Maybe it turns out to be something you’ll always want to do, or maybe, after some time goes by, you’ll grow out of it.” He cocked one of those eyebrows at her, his incongruously young-seeming face showing both sympathy and impish humor. “Whatever happens, and whatever those other tossers might think, it’s your life, and you get to decide what to do with it.”  
  
She stared at him, there in the dark hallway, and tried to find words to thank him for understanding, for helping, for  _everything_. He didn’t give her a chance, just smiled and wandered on, through a door and into the master bedroom of the overly large and well-furnished home, there in the hills above Sunnydale.  
  
“Here we are,” he announced from within, and she hurried to join him. “See? If the safe isn’t in the den, it’ll be in here.”  
  
She looked around, flashlight beam flicking from one spot to the next.  
  
“What if there isn’t a safe?”  
  
He chuckled, finishing the bottle and casting it aside as he prowled around the room.  
  
“There’s always a safe, Nibblet; always.”  
  
She nodded, and started looking behind the various large framed photographs on the wall, while he walked to first one door, in the far wall, then the other.  
  
“Bathroom,” she heard him mutter. “Not likely. Ah, walk-in closet, that’s more like it.” She could hear him rapping on walls and moving things around, even as she shone her flashlight under the bed, and behind the bedside table.  
  
“Spike?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Dawn nibbled at her lower lip for a moment, then went ahead and asked: “Do you blame me for Buffy dying?” He didn’t answer, and she looked over to see his dark silhouette standing in the doorway, looking back at her. She swallowed painfully, and even so it was hard to get the rest of it out. “Because they’re right. If I’d never come here, she’d still be alive.”  
  
He was silent for a painfully long time; several centuries... or at least ten seconds, and then he answered her.  
  
“Slayer loved you, Dawn. More than anything; more than life. And she wanted me to take care of you, if she wasn’t around to do it herself. That’s what I know; that’s what I can do for her, now that she’s gone.”  
  
She looked at him, and hoped he couldn’t see the single track the tears made below each of her eyes, even though she knew he could.  
  
“You deserved her more,” She told him softly. “Tara was wrong; you loved her more than Willow, and Buffy should have been with you.”  
  
Spike just smiled that little smile, visible now as she raised the flashlight, and gestured over his shoulder with a thumb.  
  
“Safe’s in here, behind all the shoes. How about you show me this new trick of yours, before the yuppies get back from whatever their sort do on a Friday night.”  
  
She walked past him, poking him playfully in the stomach with her elbow as she went, and giggling in spite of everything when he gave her long hair a little yank in reply.   
  
And he was right again: filling her pockets with other people’s things  _did_  make her feel better. Seeing the look on his face when she got the safe open in three seconds flat was pretty neat, too.  
  
* * * * *  
  
431 Days Ago:  
  
Her flight was delayed by hours, and when Dawn finally landed in Prague, it was late evening. Getting through customs took forever, and by the time she found a cab and convinced the driver to take her to Petrin Hill, it was past midnight, and she was sure she’d managed to miss her meeting.  
  
“You sure you want off here?” The driver asked her for the third time, obviously reluctant to leave a teenage girl at the entrance to such a place at such an hour. Dawn smiled absently at him as she shoved a wad of money at him, not bothering to count it.  
  
“I’m sure.” She was looking at the park entrance, all looming shadows and masses of trees and bushes. “This is Petrin Hill?”  
  
He nodded uneasily.  
  
“You come back during day, is beautiful place; beautiful. At night, not so much, especially for young girl.” He gestured at the door she held. “Get back in, I take to hotel now.” She shook her head, and shut the door before walking towards the entrance.  
  
“Thanks, but I’m meeting someone. If they’re still here.”  
  
He called something to her which she couldn’t make out, not that she cared to know. It had taken her months, and literally bags of cash, to find someone who knew how to contact the person she was looking for, and weeks more, and  _another_  bag of bills to set up this meeting. The one scheduled for midnight, local time, which according to her very expensive watch was thirty-eight minutes ago.  
  
Walking quickly, her sensible sneakers scuffing quietly on the pavement, she entered the park. Most of the lights on the antique iron poles were broken; the few that remained showed her walk paths, picnic tables, and a pair of basketball courts that were populated by a large group of loud and rough-looking young men who didn’t seem like the sort of people she could safely ask for directions.  
  
 _I’m supposed to go to the top of the hill, to the bottom of that tourist-trap version of the Eiffel Tower they have there_.   
  
She could see it from where she stood; mostly just a black bulk a hundred or so feet tall, with red blinking lights atop it to warn away aircraft. What she didn’t see was an obvious way up that didn’t take her through either utter darkness, or much too close to the gang of basketball players. Skirting the edge of the park, she walked for a couple hundred yards before she found a path which seemed like it might be wide enough to navigate in the near-total darkness. Several of the lights on their wrought-iron posts were still working on this side of the hill, and if their illumination was confined to small islands amid the darkness, it was still far better than the pitch-black shadows beneath the trees.  
  
Dawn started upwards, glancing around constantly and waiting for something to jump out and try to eat her. At one point early on she crouched and felt around on the ground until she found a short section of fallen tree limb. With a grunt of effort she managed to snap off one end, creating a semi-sharp stake--and skinning her soft hands painfully in the process. Wincing at the sting from the torn skin but feeling a tiny bit safer, she continued climbing. Twice she thought she heard something moving behind her; the first time she looked back she saw nothing, the second time she saw two figures, halfway up the path and moving slowly up after her.  
  
 _They probably aren’t after me; people are in here all the time for whatever reason. And they probably aren’t vampires; no Hellmouth here... but it’s a pretty great place for them to hunt, and not all monsters let themselves get pulled towards a Hellmouth._  
  
Feeling moderately terrified, she hurried up the path, panting a little at the steepness of the climb. The trail was bordered by undergrowth and stands of saplings, with the larger trees sometimes crowding close and sometimes opening up to show her the overcast sky reflecting the glow of the city. She glanced behind her again, and saw that her pursuers, if they were pursuers, were closer. Wondering if she should try leaving the path and taking her chances in the tall grass and impenetrable shadows beneath the trees, she hesitated. And when someone whispered into her ear, she nearly jumped out of her skin.  
  
“Don’t move.”  
  
She flinched, then cringed, hoping that the flinch wouldn’t count as a movement, or anything else that might make the speaker angry. Her eyes flicked from side to side, trying to seperate shapes in the blackness to either side of the trail, but she saw nothing. The voice came again, very soft, and very, very close.  
  
“Wait here. If you try to run, you die.”  
  
Dawn tried to speak, found her mouth too dry and her throat too tight, and settled for a vigorous nod. Only the faintest of rustles marked the person’s departure, and she waited there for something like half a minute, finally unable to resist turning and looking back down the trail. She was just in time to catch the faintest glimpse of something flashing in the near-darkness, and the second of the two figures flailing wildly for a bare moment before being yanked out of sight with startling abruptness. Of the other half of the pair, there was no sign. In the far distance, the boys gave a sudden, collective shout, which then dissolved into laugher, eerie when it was filtered through hundreds of yards of trees like that.  
  
Dawn stood there, starting to shiver from the late-night chill, and slowly she became certain that she was being observed, and from very close range. Even though she saw and heard nothing, she cleared her throat, very softly, and ventured a single word:  
  
“Faith?”  
  
The silence itself seemed to hold its breath for several seconds, then answer.  
  
“I know you. I shouldn’t... and I do. A little.” There was a pause, then that voice came again, sounding ever-so-slightly uncertain. “I’ve never met you before in my life. And I think I stole a jacket, and came to your birthday party just to piss everyone off.”  
  
Dawn nodded, very carefully.  
  
“That sounds about right.”  
  
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought the other girl was circling her, drifting effortlessly through the shadows, examining her from every side. Finally, the voice came again.  
  
“Were those two with you?”  
  
A violent shake of her head in answer to that.  
  
“No!” There was something floating there in the darkness, off to her right; a gleaming, impossibly sharp object that was in a hand she couldn’t see, attached to a person who could kill anyone she pleased, so very quickly, and so very easily. “I don’t even know who they were! My flight was late, and I came straight here from the airport!”  
  
There was a movement there, near the knife, something that suggested a head being cocked as someone considered her, and dark hair brushing a shoulder when the slight breeze caught hold and pulled it forward.  
  
“Keep walking,” The shape told her, and then it was gone, lost in the shadows and blackness. She shook herself, rubbed her hands together, and stumbled forward, towards a pool of light up ahead. When she got there, someone was there ahead of her, standing by the basin of a stone fountain, waiting. Dawn stopped when she saw them, then braced herself, very deliberately dropped her makeshift stake, and walked slowly forward. There was a scattering of wrought iron benches around the fountain, and the single working light was enough to let her see who it was.  
  
Faith regarded her steadily, with tons of cool confidence... but also with a fair bit of confusion.  
  
“Who  _are_  you?” The young woman asked her, with that low, throaty voice that Dawn remembered so vividly. “I thought I just dreamed you; I  _forgot_  I’d dreamed you, till now.”   
  
The girl thought of several possible answers, all of them true, ranging from Keys to clones to figments of the imagination. What she settled on was the simplest one, the one she hoped was the most true.  
  
“I’m Dawn. I’m Buffy’s sister.”  
  
Faith stared at her, eyes slightly narrowed.  
  
“Why do I sort of believe that, and sort of think you’re full of shit?”  
  
“I guess you were too far away when they cast the memory spells; or maybe they thought that since you were gone they didn’t need to try very hard to make it work on you.”  
  
The Slayer appeared to think that over, but she didn’t ask who ’they’ might be. Instead, she asked the important question, the one that Dawn dreaded the most.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
There was no simple answer to that one, at all. There was, however, a beginning to the answer, and as much as she hated to do it, Dawn told Faith what it was.  
  
“Buffy’s gone. She....” Almost a year, and it still hurt to say it. “Buffy’s dead.”  
  
Faith’s pale, starkly beautiful face was utterly devoid of emotion, even as her dark eyes bored right through Dawn. Turning her head, she put a cigarette to her lips, lit it, and walked a short distance away, to the edge of the fountain area, exhaling a long plume of smoke now and then as her feet slowly traced the edges of the illuminated pavement. Dawn moved a few steps to one side and sank slowly down onto one of the benches, watching her.  
  
Faith walked in her slow circles for several minutes, finished one cigarette and lit another. When that one was half done, she walked back and looked at Dawn once more.  
  
“Why go to all the trouble of tracking me down? Why’d you come here?”  
  
“I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ve tried living on my own, but people keep trying to use me, or hurt me. I thought about going back to Sunnydale, but none of them want me around.” She saw that register, saw the older girl grimace (and Faith  _did_  still have something of the girl about her, being less than twenty years old, and looking even younger than her years). “Well, Spike did, but Willow didn’t like him, didn’t like the way he helped me, so she banished him.”  
  
“Banished?”  
  
Dawn shrugged.  
  
“Some other dimension or something; none of the witches or mages I tried were ever able to find him.”  
  
Faith turned away, took a final drag off her cigarette, then dropped it to the pavement and ground it out under her boot. Exhaling smoke, she paced another few steps along the edge of the fountain.  
  
“Bitch always did have a stick up her ass, and a problem with anybody who didn‘t want to live the same life as her.” She shot Dawn a look. “Why’s Red so pissed at you? And why, exactly, do I sort-of and also not-really remember you?”  
  
Dawn huddled in on herself a bit, overwhelmed at the scope of  _that_  question.  
  
“It’s complicated. I mean  _really_  complicated.”  
  
Faith bared her teeth in a brief flash of brilliant white that was almost a smile. Walking over to the bench where Dawn sat, she planted one boot next to Dawn’s thigh, leaned forward, and rested her crossed arms atop her knee.   
  
“Feel free to bore the fuck out of me.”  
  
Looking up at that face, Dawn knew it wasn’t a suggestion. She started talking, and kept going, without pause, while the night grew quiet and even the rougher inhabitants of the park sought their beds. By the time the clouds cleared and the brightest stars fought to be seen over the city, Faith was sitting on the bench, turned sideways so that she was facing Dawn. And as the light grew in the east and the park slowly transformed into a greener, kinder place, Dawn’s voice slowed, wound down, and finally stopped. Faith stared off into the distance for a time, looking at the waking city beyond the trees without really seeing it, then blinked, frowned, and flowed to her feet.  
  
“Come on,” She told Dawn, holding out one slim, strong hand.  
  
“Where?” Dawn asked, almost too tired to care.  
  
Faith gave her a tiny smile, equal parts smirk and grin and sadness.  
  
“To my place. Fuck Willow. Fuck ‘em all. You’re going to stay with me.”  
  
Dawn took the offered hand, and let it pull her to her feet. The sense of relief she felt was nearly overwhelming. She wasn’t alone. Someone knew who she was, what she was, and even if only just a tiny bit... they cared. It wasn’t much, but for now it was enough.  
  
* * * * *  
  
To be continued....  
  
  



	7. 'Convergence Part I: Fight or Flight'

Disclaimer: The usual people own the usual things--Joss Whedon, Fox, and the Stargate franchise owners (insert corporate logo here). Dawn Summers was not created by me, I just made her a little cuter, a little brattier, and (hopefully) more fun to watch.

Once again I wish to thank these very kind, very _patient_ individuals, My Patrons.   
They _rock_ :  
Charles Jackson, David Helmink, Janessa Ravenwood, Christopher, Visitant Sierra, Chris Ellis, Rickard, Paul Millsted, Michael Cronin, Jeffrey Clemons, Dale, Ethan Barton, Ken Hagler, Wil, Brandon Young, Andy Rowell, Maracel, Jessamyn Howe, Lauren Cash  
And Special Guest Star: LunasMeow.

Author's Note: When you start this, you will quickly be wondering if you've missed a chapter somewhere--You haven't. We're doing a very slight time jump here to get to some action. As soon as things settle down a bit, we'll enter flashback mode and catch up on just exactly what happened to bring us to this point.  
You know me, I love doing flash-forward/backward stuff :-)

Author's Note II: My sincerest apologies to you, gentle reader. 790 days between updates is much, much too long. I hope to surprise you with how quickly the chapters following this one will appear.

 

 

Chapter Seven  
'Convergence I: Fight or Flight'

Everything was set, she was more or less ready to go, but Dawn stopped at the last minute, winced as a particularly strong twinge hit her, and gave a miserable little sigh. Stepping carefully around the fourteen identical devices lined up in the floor of her hidden sanctuary, she went to the corner booth, picked the little plastic bottle up off the table, shook out two more pills, and popped them into her mouth. 

She'd stolen the Oxycontin a few hours earlier, during a quick visit to her favorite pharmacy (the one with the early closing time and the clearly labeled bins of lovely little pills), and she'd been popping them at regular intervals ever since. She was taking too many, she knew, and too close together. It left her feeling a little floaty and weird--not an unpleasant sensation, really, though she usually didn't lean towards pills for her fun (other than the occasional evening spent partying on Ecstasy, which was close to being the greatest thing _ever_ ). 

No, she wasn't taking them for fun. She was taking them because otherwise she would be hurting too much to even move, much less do what she was about to do. 

It had been almost five hours since she'd been attacked at the club. It had taken her that long to pull herself back together, decide what she was going to do next, and make the preparations. 

She thought that was pretty fast work, considering, and now she was all set to go ahead and do it, only....

...Only now the drugs were wearing off, just a little, and with every passing moment it got harder and harder to think about anything except the pain.

So she chewed the fresh pills until they dissolved fully, shuddering a little at the bitter taste, then swallowed them down. Leaning carefully against the wall of her refuge, she waited for them to kick in, not even bothering to hold back the little whimpers that escaped her every few seconds.

Everything hurt. 

Seriously, it was pretty much _everything_.

She didn't know if her ribs were actually cracked or only bent a little (was that possible? Did ribs bend?), but whatever they were, it felt awful.

If she moved too quickly, or turned, or twisted, or even tried to _breathe_ in more than cautious little sips, her chest punished her for it with vicious little lances of jagged, stabbity-stab-type pain.

Her left elbow and shoulder had also been wrenched badly; it hurt to do anything with it at all, and the entire arm was covered in scratches and scrapes.

Her face was a collection of miseries that nagged at her every single moment without pause. Her right eye and cheek were swollen and tender, her jaw ached terribly, and her lips were split and throbbing painfully with each beat of her heart. Both her eyes had dark, blue-black circles under and around them, and even now, hours after the fact, she could taste her own blood from where her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth when the soldier had punched her. It was the first time anyone had _ever_ hit her with a closed fist, and she fervently hoped it would never happen again.

A handful of minutes crawled by at a snail's pace, and eventually when Dawn took a slow, experimental breath she found that her ribs hurt a bit less than before, and the aches around her eyes and jaw and cheek felt slightly more tolerable; the fresh pills were taking effect, wrapping her in fresh layers of imperfect (though still wonderful) numbness.

Even so, despite everything the drug could do, her body was all sickly-aches and dizzy, throbbing awfulness. The two places where the super-nasty stun gun had been jammed into her were the worst. The spot on her right shoulder, and the other one, low on her side, each the size of a large coin; _those_ were blistered and burnt and raw and horrible. Just looking at them had made her feel wobbly and weak, so she'd hastily smeared antibiotic cream on them both, and then covered them with some of the big, square self-sticking band-aids from the pharmacy. She was doing her best to pretend they weren't there--not an easy thing to do when they hurt so bad and were each surrounded by a larger circle of _really_ dark bruising. The last time she'd checked, as she was getting dressed again, the band-aids had been soaking through with some kind of oozing, mostly-clear fluid. Dawn supposed she should change the bandages for fresh ones, but she couldn't bear the thought of seeing what was under there again, so she just kept on with the ignorage.

She'd suffered some small injuries during the ambush, too; lots and lots of little scrapes and bruises and cuts that, on any ordinary day would have had her whining and complaining and freaking out about the pain and ickyness of it all... and right now those were barely even registering compared to all the rest of it.

It had been, far and away, the worst beating of her entire life.

Okay, maybe that wasn't saying much. She _was_ barely three years old, even if she looked eighteen(ish), and she'd never been one to go _looking_ for fights or beatings. And yes, she'd seen Buffy endure far worse. Even _Willow_ had suffered worse, that time when Drucilla had attacked the library and killed Kendra; and of course Faith received horrible injuries on an almost routine basis, in the course of her wild adventures throughout Europe and beyond.

Intellectually she knew her own injuries were almost minor in comparison, that any of those stronger and tougher women would have shaken themselves off and kept right on going with whatever they were doing, but Dawn wasn't that strong or that tough, and it hurt _so much_. 

She'd cried afterwards; after escaping the soldiers and teleporting here, to her hidden sanctuary beneath the old ski lodge, she'd collapsed onto the floor and lain there, curled up and helplessly sobbing, for a long while before it even occurred to her to go and steal the pills. If she was honest with herself, it was taking all her willpower to not fall down right then and there and start crying _again_.

She wanted desperately to run away--running was the thing that worked for her, much more so than when she tried to stand up for herself, and she could do that now, absolutely. Just run and hide and hope that the men hunting her wouldn’t be able to find her again, and hurt her again… but she knew that they would. There was no place she could run that they wouldn’t eventually find her. She believed that now-- _really_ believed it, and that meant her only real option was to _not_ cry, and _not_ hide, but instead somehow _make_ them stop.

And that’s what she was about to do.

It wasn’t the greatest plan. Truthfully, it wasn't even a very _good_ plan. She didn’t have the quirky sort of tactical cleverness Buffy had possessed,the nearly unstoppable mix of recklessness, strength, and passion that filled Faith to overflowing, or even just a group of amazing, stupidly-brave friends to help her when the bad guys were too much to face alone. She didn't have anyone to give her words of advice and comfort in the face of this nightmare, or even something as simple as an ordinary, reassuring hug.

All Dawn had was herself, and she was hurting, and terrified, and almost completely sure this wasn’t going to work, but it was all she could think of to try, and she had to try _something_.

She tugged nervously at her hair, took a long look around the brightly-lit, chilly, lonely little room, and bit at her sore lower lip when it threatened to start trembling.

The pills felt like they'd taken full effect now, and so long as she was careful, moving didn't hurt _too_ badly. 

It was time to get going.

She took a moment to resettle the black leather jacket she wore. It was too big for her, which was on purpose; an homage to the jacket Angel had given Buffy, the jacket her sister had worn when she’d gone into the sewers to face the Master. 

Dawn had briefly considered wearing a pretty dress under it, just for added luck, but in the end she’d settled for her tightest, sexiest jeans, a low-cut, sparkly green top, and a pair of soft, calf-high boots that were covered in leather straps and buckles of gleaming gold, with a sturdy three inch heel. 

It wasn't the sort of outfit Faith would have worn; it was a bit too girly for that, but she wore it for the same reason Faith went into battle flaunting skintight leather, a bare midriff, and femme-fatale lipstick. Unfortunately, nothing Dawn could do right now would give her more than a fraction of Faith's arrogant confidence, but even a weak imitation of it was better than feeling pure, paralyzing terror, so she'd done her best to imitate her former lover's attitude.

"I'm awesome, and I'm hot, and they can't touch me," She told herself.

That, too, was definitely something Faith would say, though her voice probably wouldn't have been shaking as she said it. Dawn glanced into her little handmirror and turned her face from side to side. Layers of makeup hid the discoloration around her eyes, though despite her best efforts the swelling still showed a little. The deep burgundy of her lipstick, the haunted look in her eyes, and the stark paleness of her made-up face made her look like a somewhat battered china doll, but she preferred that to looking like a ragged and desperate victim.

"They haven't beaten me," She told her reflection, trying very hard to believe it was true. "I look fine, I _am_ fine. I have superpowers and a plan, and totally amazing hair."

'The hair' (which she knew for a fact _was_ amazing) was currently pulled back in a long, thick ponytail, to keep it out of her eyes and out of her way, though she'd considered doing something fancier with it. Maybe she should put it in a braid, or at least use some ribbons to--

“No; no more stalling, Dawn!" She put down the mirror, and took a final look at the small items on the table. She hoped they wouldn't be needed, but she was trying her best to plan ahead. Satisfied, she took a slow breath, knelt slightly, and picked up the first of the larger devices from the floor. She had to use both hands, and its contents sloshed slightly, the awkward thing not really _that_ heavy, just heavy enough to be difficult for a slender, emphatically non-athletic girl with a sore arm and sore ribs.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on remembering a certain place.

_Concrete walls. Metal gratings. Power cables. White numbers and letters painted on the walls. Smell of stone and oil, people and machines, damp concrete and burnt metal. Faint, endless thrum of fans in the distance. The big flattened-donut/circle-ring, covered in squiggles and symbols, all broody and looming at the top of its ramp…._

"Got it."

Dawn’s eyes opened, and she felt them tingle as she opened herself to the crystalline power that was always there, waiting.

Glancing down, she again took careful note of the devices lined up in rows on the floor; fourteen of them, each identical to the one she struggled to hold steady. She nodded to herself, reassured that she knew _exactly_ where they were; that was important, because she would have to be quick when she came back for the next one.

It was a horrible plan. 

She could still run away, she could still try to hide until they forgot about her, she didn't have to _do_ this!

Dawn squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her soft hands tight on the plastic handle of the device, and shook her head.

“No. They'll find me. And next time they'll get me. This is the only way.” 

She drank in as much of the energy as she could hold; it was a long jump from here, beneath the old Ski Lodge, at the very edge of the circle that defined her world, to the mountain at the very center. She opened her eyes, and her vision took on a deep green tinge, the tingling that raced along every nerve growing intense. It brought a fresh alertness with it, pushing back the stuffed cotton vagueness caused by the pills.

Shrugging her shoulders to settle the jacket, making sure she had a firm grip on the thing dragging at her arms, she tried very hard to be brave. 

It didn't really work; when she spoke again her voice was still trembly, and hardly louder than a whisper. 

"Okay, for real this time: here… we… _go_ …."

Still scared out of her mind, still unable to think of anything even slightly less stupid that she could try, Dawn took a breath, then another, then another, and then she--

_FlickerSNAP_

In the bright, chilly, silent room she left behind, the fourteen remaining bombs sat patiently on the ancient linoleum, awaiting her return.

  
* * * * *  


Cheyenne Mountain  
Five minutes ago:

“We're confident that these will be a huge asset to the off-world teams, sir.” The young lieutenant was almost painfully earnest, as well as having the sort of clean-cut handsomeness that the pubic relations types loved to put on recruiting posters. All of this would usually be enough to push Jack into full-blown snark mode, especially given that the younger man was a _Marine_ (long experience had shown him that those guys could almost always stand to have their egos deflated just a bit), but at the moment he was too focused on the machine before him to bother.

“I have to say, Lieutenant... this is _not_ the droid I was looking for.” 

Okay, so maybe a _little_ snark might still slip out; he _was_ only human. 

Jack glanced back at the Marine, saw the confusion on his face, and sighed to himself.

_He's too young to have even seen the movie, unless he caught it on Netflix. Damn shame, how kids these days miss out on the important things._

“Sir? I assumed you'd been briefed on the new equipment? You should have been given complete specs for the SCOUT in the information packet we sent last month, but maybe our office forgot to route you a copy.” The younger man was being diplomatic; it wasn't considered polite to tell a superior officer that he should make at least some effort to read his damn mail.

Jack crouched down to look more closely at the forward left track assembly before he answered. “I heard something about some new equipment being brought in, yeah,” He said with a small shrug. “It's just that when they told me we were getting a new drone to replace the MALP, I was sort of picturing something like _Curiosity_ ; you know? The Mars rover? Something very 'sciency', with eleven different kinds of gripper claws, some bouncy balloon tires, and a couple of dish antennae on it--basically the same thing we already have, only bigger and better.” He frowned at the thing that was actually in front of him.

“What I _wasn't_ expecting was a toy _tank_.”

Lieutenant Westray moved to stand on the other side of the low-slung machine.

“Not a tank, sir,” He corrected O’Neill, respectfully but firmly. “And definitely not a toy. It's an enhanced-survivability reconnaissance drone.” He patted the thing’s armor plating affectionately. “SCOUT here can run circles around a MALP; it’s got a _lot_ more speed, more maneuverability, it’s able to handle steeper inclines, rougher terrain, and has almost ten times the range. Its general sensor package is more capable in most ways, and there's an additional, modular sensor pallet that we can swap out for mission-specific equipment that‘s maximized for a given situation.”

Jack absorbed this, then stood and gave the younger man a raised eyebrow.

“It’s also a _tank_.”

They both looked at the drone.

It was certainly tank- _like_. Roughly the size of a large riding lawn mower, it had the general outline of an American Abrams M1 battle tank, though this miniature version was somewhat sleeker and leaner than its larger cousin. The turret also lacked the Abrams’ massive main gun, instead sporting several types of cameras and other instruments, along with multiple whip antennas. Where a conventional tank had two continuous tracks that each ran the length of the vehicle, this had two shorter, higher track units on each side, for a total of four. Relative to its size, the little vehicle sat higher off the ground than a full-sized tank, too. The clearance beneath its hull seemed comparable to his Jeep, and O’Neill couldn’t help a little wince as he thought about the dozens of times they’d had a MALP get stuck on the other side of a Gate--victim of a middling-sized rock, a fallen log, exposed tree root, or even just a bit of sandy or muddy ground. The six-wheeled machines were _supposed_ to be all-terrain, but they were ancient, half-senile, barely-mobile things, salvaged from a NASA warehouse where they’d been mothballed since the mid 70’s, part of an abandoned project that would have strewn the mobile laboratories across the surface of Mars. They had been reconditioned and retasked for use by the SGC, and they _were_ useful for providing a first look at a newly opened Gate address… it was just that their limitations made dealing with the things an incredible pain in the butt.

This newer version, however, looked a lot more promising--provided the performance lived up to the presentation.

Jack rapped the sloped side of the turret with a knuckle, eliciting a very faint _\--Tunk--_ sound from the metal/ceramic composite.

“It _does_ feel pretty solid,” He allowed, looking for any obvious gaps in the armor plating and finding none. 

“This is based on the Chobham armor the British developed for their vehicles, sir. It's lighter than the steel and depleted uranium our tanks use, and almost as strong.”

O'Neill grunted, seeing in his mind's eye the flurry of staff-weapon bolts that had been sent in his direction more than once. If the little tracked drone could survive even a few hits it might prove very useful.

Of course, it would be even more useful to have something that could shoot _back_.

“This is an Army/Marine corps project, right? The program? So I’m guessing that the version of this those guys are getting _will_ have a gun on it, instead of a big ol' box of sensors?”

Westray nodded.

“Yes sir. General Richards arranged for the SGC to get the first batch of operational units, and the technical team at Area 51 put together the expanded sensor modules, but the SCOUT vehicles were originally designed to work alongside combat troops.” 

O’Neill felt his expression darken slightly.

“SG teams _are_ combat troops, Lieutenant. Sooner or later, every man and woman who goes out there ends up fighting for their lives; usually against overwhelming numbers _and_ firepower.” He gave the machine's largest, long-lensed camera a glare. “It would have been _nice_ if someone had thought to leave us some kind of offensive option more lethal than taking bad selfies of the Goa'uld.”

The younger man straightened slightly, unconsciously coming to attention in response to the change in tone.

“Apologies, sir. I didn’t mean any insult to your people.” He gestured to the sizable stack of large crates that had been delivered to Staging Area Two, a very large space which was just off the Gate Room itself. "And we didn't just bring the sensor packages; there's five full sets of ordinance modules as well." He touched the drone's turret. "If a situation arises in which your teams need offensive punch more than they need another sensor platform or remote-control pack mule, well, we can do that for you too."

Jack nodded slowly, his anger of a moment earlier fading. He'd seen too many of his people die in skirmishes, against both the Jaffa and other, more random threats, to ignore the worth of what was being offered. Besides, anything that would free the SGC from dealing with their depleted fleet of remaining MALPs was more than welcome.

“Ah. Well... that's fine, then.” Jack had been on his way to being legitimately angry, maybe even furious, if this had turned out to be another case of Washington D.C. beancounters crapping all over the Stargate program... now that it at least _seemed_ like that was not the case, he was left feeling slightly foolish. 

Giving the Lieutenant his best look of mild unconcern, he reached out and bestowed a sort of apologetic pat upon the SCOUT's dome-like radar array. 

The machine, being a machine, made no response, so after a moment he stopped and cleared his throat.

"Okay," He told Westray. "I'll get with General Hammond and see about setting up some field trials for your guys." Pacing slowly around the drone to see it from every side, he mentally shuffled through a list of options. "The Alpha site is on a planet with lots of pine forest, so we'll do that first--" He gave the younger man a look. "Believe me, we deal with a _lot_ of pine forest, so if that's going to be a problem for MarioCart, here, then you might as well pack up and go home right now."

The lieutenant didn't grin at that, though he looked like he wanted to.

"I think we can handle a few trees, sir, even if they _are_ sitting on a planet a few thousand light years from--"

The alarm klaxon cut him off, blaring through the large space and freezing everyone in place as Walter's amplified voice boomed from the speakers overhead.

“Code three! Intruder! Intruder in the Gate room!”

The klaxon continued to sound, and the various personnel in the staging area dropped what they were doing and hurried to get to their emergency stations.

Jack turned towards the far end of the long room and gestured sharply at the two men nearest the oversized freight elevator that was used to ferry equipment and supplies from the surface. At the moment, one of the forklifts was parked half in, half out of the elevator as the quartermaster's people worked to bring in pallets of survival gear for one of the off-world teams, the vehicle blocking the descent of the reinforced blast door that would otherwise have sealed the shaft.

“Back that lift _outta_ there and secure that door! _Now!_ ”

They hurried to obey and Jack turned back to what was in front of him. The massive steel door at _this_ end of the room was even larger than the elevator's, to facilitate moving material back and forth from the Gate room on the other side. Standard procedure was for it to be closed unless freight was actually being shifted in one direction or the other, and right now it _was_ closed, which was all to the good, since otherwise whatever was in there would have a straight shot to the still-open elevator, just a hundred and twenty feet away.

And the intruder could be practically _anything_. They'd already encountered several bizarre forms of alien life with strange abilities, and there was always the chance that Apophis or some other Goa'uld might have the technical know-how to force the Stargate open on their end, iris or no iris. Sure, there was a very good chance that this was just a certain cute, long-haired, _annoying_ girl who'd decided to drop in for a visit, but until he knew that for certain....

Jack turned away from the direct access to the Gate room.

As much as he would have loved to open the smaller, personnel-sized door beside the larger one, and get a look at what was happening on the other side, he simply couldn't risk that. Instead he headed for the door to his far left, the one that let out onto the corridor Bravo-Twelve, which in turn would get him to the stairs up to the Control-- 

“Daybreak two-nine! I repeat, Daybreak, code two-nine! Gate room!"

The voice from the speakers brought him up short, and with a growl of irritation he went _back_ to the Gate room access door, swiped his card and began angrily punching in his override code. That settled the question of the intruder's identity, and since a locked door wasn't going to contain the girl anyway, he might was well take the shorter route.

“Fer _cryin'_ out loud, what's she think she's _doing_ ,” He muttered at the door, waiting impatiently for the override to cycle through.

'Daybreak', was the codename the SGC had assigned to Dawn (even Hammond had seemed to take a certain perverse pleasure in refusing to use 'Emerald', which was what Washington and the NID were calling her), and 'two-nine' meant she was behaving in an aggressive or hostile manor. 'DayBreak _three-_ nine' would have meant she was actually attacking SGC personnel, so at least things hadn't gone _that_ far wrong, yet, but even so it was more than Jack had expected from the girl. Why was she attacking at all, when they'd taken no hostile action against her?

The door's electronic lock had just released, the ready lights shifting to standby, when the unmistakable staccato clang of automatic weapons fire rattled the solidity of the steel plate under his fingers.

Jack pulled back his hand, staring at the still closed door in disbelief.

The guards in there had been issued non-lethal weapons in addition to their usual load-out, and they'd also been given _very_ clear instructions not to fire on the girl if she showed up again, unless their lives were in immediate danger. 

Had they all been wrong about the girl calling herself Dawn? Was she actually a Goa'uld, or one of their agents?

The gunfire on the other side of the door seemed to have ceased, though he thought he could hear muffled shouts.

Jaw tightening, he slammed his palm against the button, causing the small door to slide aside, and he stepped through to see---

  
* * * * *  


Four Minutes Ago: 

Sergeant Alicia Drake knew it was never going to happen: the girl was never, _ever_ going to come back to the SGC. It had been ten days since the fiasco that had made Alicia and the rest of the SGC security force look like idiots, and during that time there had been exactly zero sign of 'Dawn' anywhere inside of or around the Mountain.

At this point she'd just about come to the conclusion that the expanded guard shifts were only being continued as a way to punish her and the other SP's for their poor showing. It wasn't fair (the girl was using technology that she and the other aliens used to rule whole planets as _Gods!_ ), but nobody had ever said life, or the military, was going to be fair. 

Besides, she knew better than to complain if she ever wanted to be assigned to an off-world team.

And so she hadn't complained.

Not when she was ordered to stand guard in the power vault (and gee, what a stimulating eight hours of staring at electrical cables and junction boxes _that_ had been).

Not when she was ordered to stand guard in the newly-relocated armory (just the thought of what would happen if someone fired a weapon, even one of the captured Zats, inside a room _filled_ with grenades, stinger missiles, claymores, and RPG rounds was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat).

Not when she was ordered to stand guard in the room that housed the SGC’s mainframe computer (although watching all the little blinking lights and listening to the soothing hum of the machine had very nearly lulled even a certain determined and disciplined sergeant to sleep). ( _Twice_ ).

She hadn't even complained when she was ordered to stand guard in the room that housed the SGC’s _backup_ mainframe, which was exactly like the main one except for being directly adjacent to one of the huge air-handlers which provided ventilation to the underground complex (no one had warned her to bring ear plugs, and after an eight hour shift of being subjected to the throbbing howl of the giant fans, she was left with a raging headache and an awful ringing in her ears that lasted well into the next day).

Alicia sighed. She knew it was vitally important to protect the Stargate; Earth's entire future quite possibly depended on keeping the ancient device safe and functioning smoothly. It was just that she wanted to go offworld so badly, and the Gate was right _there_ , within her reach, and yet she wasn't allowed to step through it.

She sighed again.

It really _wasn't_ fair, but she had a job to do. And besides, at least today's assignment wasn't as dull or pointless as the others had been. 

Today she was guarding the Gate itself.

Alicia and her team had positioned themselves around the perimeter of the room; herself and Airman McCray each taking one of the personnel doors, and Erickson and Collier standing midway along one of the long walls that led back to the Gate ramp and platform, one on either side. That gave them excellent visibility over nearly all of the stark concrete box that was the Gate Room. The only blind spot was back behind the Gate itself, where the steel struts that supported the ring and ramp, as well as the bundles of power cables and their associated machinery served to create a bit of a tangled jumble. Even so, Collier and Erickson had a partial view of even that area, and since the only real way to get a better look would be to either position someone within a foot or two of some _very_ high-voltage wiring, or have someone stand at the top of the ramp, in front of or _inside_ the ring itself (and since there was no way in hell Alica was going to order someone to do _either_ of those things, given how glitches or alien interference had occasionally caused massive shorting and arcing in the power system, or a deadly _kerWHOOSH_ that erupted with little or no warning), she had decided that they could get along without a perfect view of that part of the room.

At this point, she and the other three had been standing watch for nearly five hours so far, and as guard duty went, this was about as good as it got, since at least here they got to watch things actually _happening_.

For example: 

SG-7 had headed out earlier to investigate some tropical ocean world, a place that the preliminary once-over had described as a paradise of small islands, white beaches, and oceans filled with _thousands_ of whales, and all of that within a few miles of the coral atoll that held the Gate.

Later on, SG-8 had returned from a three-day stint of playing nursemaid to a dozen scientists and engineers. When they emerged from the event horizon of the Gate, they brought with them five cart-loads of alien technology recovered from what seemed to be centuries-old spaceship wreckage, lying rusted and forgotten on a high desert plateau of a world orbiting a pair of dim red suns.

Shockingly, they had also come back with the mummified remains of several humans they'd found at the site, and early speculation said that they might have been Goa'uld hosts. Dr. Fraiser and her people had hustled them off immediately upon arrival, and would probably be chopping them up and analyzing them for weeks.

And lastly, at this very moment, Sergeant Drake and the other SP's were being treated to an amusing forty-five minute (and counting) comedy routine by the tech crew assigned to the RCV section, as they unintentionally demonstrated how _not_ to succeed at the fine art of MALP wrangling.

From what Alicia had overheard from her position near the front wall, they were trying to get the six-wheeled probe ready for a first-look mission through the Gate, to check out a newly discovered address. Unfortunately, that plan was currently on hold, as the three techs fought to make the stubborn machine cooperate.

First, it froze up at the base of the ramp and refused to move at all. After ten minutes of coaxing, it finally jerked into motion, turned, and rolled forward confidently... straight into the wall, directly beneath the observation windows of the Control room.

Another thirty minutes passed as the two men and one woman tried switching out battery packs, shifting to alternate control frequencies, and even removing access panels and tinkering with the internal circuitry. Only when the senior tech decided to give up on it and use one of their other MALP units instead did the one in front of them randomly decide to start working again, flashing 'ready' codes and green lights across the hand-held control unit the female tech held.

Alicia watched, silently and without expression, as they all breathed a sigh of relief and reassured a _highly_ irritated, clipboard-wielding Lieutenant they were finally good to go.

And exactly thirty seconds later, Alicia found herself working much harder to maintain her neutral expression, as the MALP slowly, _majestically_ rolled towards the Gate, managed to turn just far enough so that only its left-side wheels found the ramp, and proceeded to tip further and further to the side, ignoring frantic electronic commands, until it rolled completely over and crashed down hard on its back, crushing several delicate cameras and other instruments into a useless, sparking mess.

Seemingly unaware that anything was amiss, all six of the probe's balloon tires continued spinning, refusing to stop no matter what the frustrated techs tried.

Alicia looked across at McCray, and the two of them shared tiny smiles.

_Much better than guarding the power vault,_ She thought to herself, just barely managing to hold in a very unprofessional giggle.

_I hope those new drones we're getting are as good as they say; Lieutenant Sullivan is going to tear a strip off of those techs, for something that's not really their fault._ She surreptitiously checked her wristwatch. _They're going to have to cancel that First Look for today, I think; there's that outbound resupply mission for the guys on that ice planet in less than fifteen minutes, and that has to happen on time unless Hammond is okay with letting them all freeze to death on that glacier._

As much as Alicia sympathized with the poor MALP herders, it was still hugely entertaining to watch them trying to lever the heavy, awkward thing upright, especially once it started flailing and rotating the robotic arm that was pinned beneath it, which only set the whole machine revolving slowly in place as its wheels continued to spin.

_Crap, maybe I should just get on one of the .50 cals and put the damn thing out of everyone's misery...._

It wasn't Alicia's fault that she missed the first flash of green. Everyone in the room, and in the Control room overhead as well, was watching the techs and their struggle against their mechanized foe; it simply isn't human nature to ignore something like that when it happens right in front of you.

So Alicia missed the first flash.

And the second.

With the third, however, she blinked, and looked towards the Gate, standing ignored for the moment atop its pedestal. 

And that's when she saw the girl. 

Nearly hidden behind the bundles of thick power cables, wearing a too-large leather jacket and struggling with something medium-sized and awkward, back behind the Gate ring, on the far side of the platform from where Alicia stood.

_She_ did _come back--_

In the heartbeat it took Alicia to think it, the girl was gone, with only a flicker of green to mark her departure. No one else had seen it, the spinning MALP and hapless techs still held everyone's eyes.

“Look sharp!” She shouted, letting her rifle slip down and back to hang from its sling and drawing the heavy pistol she'd been issued a week earlier. A dozen sets of eyes snapped to her, then turned to follow her gaze, just as another flash of green dropped the girl on the other side of the ring platform, the one closest to Alicia. Shouts erupted from all over the room as the SP took a step forward, pistol raised. The girl sat another of the dull red objects down against the nest of cables and circuit boxes, glanced up at the sudden flurry of activity and noise, and a grim look flashed across her pale, pretty face, her eerily-shining eyes narrowing before she vanished.

Alicia scowled at the Gate for an instant before turning to jab a finger at the MALP techs.

“ _Out!_ Everybody who doesn't need to be here get _out!_ ”

They scrambled to obey her, with the Lieutenant and his aide following close behind, even as Erickson and Collier raised their rifles and started a slow stalk towards the partially-obscured area back behind the Gate. Alicia's scowl intensified when she saw that.

“No! Non-lethals only!”

She raised her pistol for emphasis, and they paused to switch their rifles for their pistols, Collier looking a bit sheepish at having forgotten the rules of engagement they'd been issued for this particular intruder, while Erickson looked like he would have preferred sticking with his M-16 regardless of what the brass might have to say about it.

“Sergeant Drake,” The voice of Master Sergeant Harriman, the senior technician the command staff called 'Walter', boomed into the room. “What's going--?”

Another flash, and the girl was there again, this time in full view of everyone, standing right in the middle of the Gate ring.

Walter's voice came through the speakers again:

“Oh.”

There was a click, the emergency klaxon began to sound, and the intercom switched over the base-wide circuit: “Code Three! Intruder! Intruder in the Gate room!”

Alicia was moving forward, up onto the foot of the ramp. Their standing orders were to treat the girl as a non-combatant until proven otherwise, and so far she _hadn't_ made any directly threatening moves, but still--

“Stay where you are!” She shouted, pistol aimed near, though not _at_ her. Dawn straightened up, having just set down another of those red boxy things, and she didn't even bother looking at Alicia before vanishing.

She glanced back to see McCray right behind her on the ramp. The other SP looked at her worriedly, his own pistol held ready.

“What's she up to, Ali?”

Alicia shook her head. 

“I don't know, but whatever it is, I don't--”

She caught something out of the corner of her eye and whirled. The girl was in the _front_ corner of the room now, near the heavy steel lockers that held extra ammo boxes for the .50 caliber guns that covered the Gate. 

“Stop right _there!_ ” Alicia yelled. 

Kneeling slightly, the human-like alien put down another object, and this time the Sergeant was close enough to see that it was a rounded cube of reddish plastic, with several small boxes or bundles held to it with windings of duct tape... and some of those added bits were showing colored wires and blinking lights.

That sight was more than enough to convince Alicia that something very _bad_ was happening, and she quickly lined up on the girl with her pistol and fired.

Captain Carter had objected to the StarGate and their makeshift interface hardware potentially being peppered with Zat blasts, so the security team had been given compressed-air weapons that threw large darts filled with a _very_ powerful tranquilizing agent at over five hundred feet per second. Being hit by one would hurt like hell, but it wouldn't kill, and Alicia figured that at this point safe was better than sorry---

\---And she missed, the dart shattering on the concrete wall as the girl flickered away.

Roughly twelve feet up from the point of impact, she saw Walter bend towards his microphone again.

“Daybreak two-nine! I repeat, Daybreak, code two-nine! Gate room!"

That drew an involuntary snort from Alicia.

“Yeah, I'd say she's acting a _little_ hostile.... or at least sneaky.”

At the far end of the room there was a green flash, and she saw both Erickson and Collier follow her lead and fire darts at something she couldn't see with the ramp and Gate in the way, the shots coming simultaneous with another flash. 

Collier swore loudly. 

“Goddamned jackrabbit!”

Doing her best to watch for any nearby arrivals, Alicia crouched beside the thing that had been left sitting by the ammo locker. Glancing at it, her eyes went from one component, to the next, to the next, and then her face went white with shock.

“Go lethal!” She shouted to the others, surging to her feet and throwing her pistol aside as she reached for her slung rifle.

“Go lethal _now!_ ”

There was confused movement behind the armored glass of the Control room window, and her men were looking at her uncertainly as she countermanded their standing orders, but she had no time for any of that.

A flash to her left, in front of the oversized door that led to Staging Two, and the girl was there with yet another device. Quick as a snake, Alicia whipped her rifle around, not bothering with the sights, just firing a long burst of 5.56 mm rounds as the barrel came into line with the--

The girl was gone again, a startled shriek of surprise cut off in the middle as she vanished, the thing she'd brought with her dropping to bounce off the floor before tipping over and lying on its side, gasoline starting to leak from it as the lights kept blinking.

Because that's what it was. The girl had been bringing in devices built around plastic five-gallon gasoline containers. Around each one were taped half a dozen sticks of dynamite, a short, capped length of metal pipe, and at least two large blocks of what looked to be C4 explosive, all connected to little electronic modules with strands of red, yellow and blue wiring.

Alicia was no explosives expert, but it the thing couldn't have looked more bomb-like unless it actually had a giant sign on it that _said_ 'Bomb'.

Besides the ominously blinking LED's, there was also a digital display, with the numbers steadily counting down from just over twelve minutes. 

Ignoring the device as best she could (which wasn't very well at all), she scanned the room. Seeing that the others were staring wide-eyed at the thing beside her, she gestured curtly.

“Don't watch that, watch for _her!_ ”

The four of them started scanning, with rifles ready, and long seconds passed without any sign. When the smaller door in the left-hand wall slid aside, the entire security team jerked around to cover it, only to turn their weapons aside when Colonel O'Neill stepped through.

His eyes raked the room, taking in the scene, before dropping to the leaking, blinking, count-down-ing bomb directly at his feet. With an incredulous expression he looked from it, to them, then back again.

“Are you _kidding_ me?!”

  
* * * * *  


Dawn flashed into existence in the chilly, florescent-lit safety of her sanctuary, just as she'd been doing over and over again for the last minute or so. This time, however, she appeared in mid-scream, ceasing only when it registered that she was safe in her Crypt. Half of her bombs still waited, their timers patiently counting down, but instead of grabbing up the next in line she looked down at herself, patted her stomach and chest and upper thighs, and then poked trembling fingers through the three small holes she discovered in the loose-hanging flap of her unzipped leather jacket.

“Well, fuck _that_.”

Eying the remaining seven devices, she waited for her rapid breathing to slow a little before nodding to herself.

“I'll just spread the rest of them around; that should make them even more worried about what I'll do.”

Picking up another of the gasoline containers by the built-in handle, wincing at the pain it caused her ribs, she made sure not to pull any of the wires loose as she shifted the awkward thing around to get a good grip.

_Definitely not going back to the big room--that blonde soldier-woman is some kind of psycho!_

She thought about some of the other places she'd seen in the concrete warren under the mountain, back when she first appeared in this world. Picking one of them at random, she drew on the energies of the invisible lake, gathered herself, and--

_FlickerSNAP_

* * * * *

Three Minutes Ago: 

“Definitely Goa'uld,” Janet said, touching the tip of her finger to several spots on the screen. The image displayed there was of a human brain, taken from an MRI scan of one of the three mummified bodies that had been brought through the Gate two hours earlier.

Samantha Carter leaned closer, eying the image closely, then nodded.

“I see it. The tissue is amazingly well-preserved; you can still see how the Symbiote had connected itself.” She touched the image, then traced several faint lines. “Here, and here.”

Janet sighed, and looked over at the triple-layered window that let them look into the isolation room. All three bodies were in there, along with two technicians wearing face masks and gloves. 

“No clear indication as of yet concerning what killed them; there's no trauma to the bodies that I can see, other than the freeze-drying from the climate of that planet.”

Sam followed her gaze, and winced slightly, thinking of the personnel who were currently sitting in quarantine behind multiple environmental seals, one level up from the lab.

“Isn't it a little harsh, keeping the salvage team in isolation like that? I know for a fact that you've already gotten the tests back showing no contamination; the lockdown was canceled almost an hour ago.” 

Janet shook her head, showing no sympathy at all for the unfortunate members of the expedition.

“They should have known better than to bring bodies through the Gate without warning us to take precautions. Maybe next time they'll think before risking the lives of everyone on the base.”

Sam grinned faintly while Janet was looking at the scan data, impressed yet again by the quiet strength of the small woman, then she looked back to the images on the screen.

“At least we got some decent specimens,” Carter said, her mood darkening slightly. “The Stargate program has been up and running for months now, we know the Goa'uld are the biggest threat out there, and we _still_ haven't been able to kill one of the overlord types, or capture a broad enough sample of their technology to judge the limits of their their 'godly powers'.”

Janet raised an eyebrow that, and Carter sighed.

“Sorry. It's just that I hate to see knowledge abused like this. Science and technology are supposed to _improve_ people's lives and expand their horizons, and the Goa'uld are using it to do just the opposite. They know so much, and if they shared it with humanity we could work together to do incredible, _amazing_ things... and instead they set themselves up as these God-Kings.”

She looked at the three images on the screen, staring at the shadowed outlines that were the long-dead remains of the symbiotes.

“They're holding entire cultures hostage out there, Janet. Whole civilizations have been locked into stagnation for thousands of years, in Dark Ages that make ours look like a long weekend, and as far as any of us can tell, the only reason they're doing it is because the 'Gods' think it's _fun_.”

Doctor Fraiser nodded slowly.

“It's horrific, there's no arguing that, and I certainly don't believe they're gods, but....”

This time Sam's eyebrows went up; both of them.

“'But'?”

“Well, look at this.” She brought up all three of the scans they'd done, rotated them until they aligned, and then highlighted certain portions. “The resolution is poor, I know; these _are_ mummified remains, after all, not fresh tissue.” She zoomed the view in on the indicated areas. “See here?”

Samantha frowned thoughtfully, eyes flickering from one part of the image to another. 

“Those structures... if they're not a result of the desiccation--”

Janet shook her head firmly.

“They're not.”

“...Then it looks like all three brains have been altered.” Touching the controls, she moved the plane of focus back and forth through a tiny sliver of the second brain. “This area looks almost artificial; like microscopic threads of crystal, instead of neurons.”

She looked up at the other woman.

“You think this is evidence for your theory? That the Goa'uld have psychic powers?”

Janet gave a slow shrug.

“I don't know. Maybe?” She inclined her head toward the scan results. “This isn't just a case of the symbiote taking control of the host; of overriding the original personality. This is a physical restructuring of the brain to a significant degree, in a manner I can't explain from a purely biological perspective.”

Samantha considered this.

“So you're thinking that maybe they change the brain to make it, what? Serve as some sort of booster... to amplify the psychic abilities of the Gou'ld itself?” Her lips twisted; she sounded skeptical, even to herself. “I don't know, Janet, the evidence for psi powers is circumstantial at best.”

Fraiser turned to fully face her, arms folded as she rested one hip on the edge of the counter.

“All I know is that I saw a Goa'uld perform mass mind-control, right here in the SGC, without any alien technology to help her.”

Shuddering, Sam resisted the urge to cover her face with her hand.

“Hathor.”

“Right. And I know at first we thought it was pheromones, but that doesn't really track. Human beings simply aren't that responsive to those sorts of stimuli, not to anything like that extent, and none of the blood tests I did on the affected personnel afterwards showed the chemical loading that I would expect if they'd been dosed with some sort of mind-altering compound. ” She tilted her head slightly to the side, looking up at Sam. “Mental powers only seem impossible to us because we've never had good evidence for them on _Earth_. Who's to say what a much older race of beings might be able to do, especially if they can alter their host's brain and nervous system to suit their needs?”

As much as Sam wanted to deny the idea, it was, at the very least, _possible_.... And besides, there was also the report that Colonel O'Neill had filed, concerning that first trip through the Stargate.

“It took a nuclear explosion to kill Ra,” She mused quietly, looking down at the keyboard beside her. “I wasn't there, but apparently bullets couldn't touch him, and he could fire beams of blinding light from his hands that were so intense they burned through solid stone.” 

She looked back up, still hesitant to jump to such a bizarre conclusion.

“Everyone assumed it was just part of his 'Immortal God of the Sun' act; he _did_ have advanced technology, Janet.”

The other woman just gave her another shrug.

“Okay... but maybe that's not _all_ he had. Maybe it isn't just their knowledge and machines that let them pretend to be gods. Maybe they've managed to advance themselves in that direction, till they're at least part of the way _there_.”

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, then Sam started to bring up what she thought was an excellent point about--

The alarm klaxon blared, and then Walter's voice came through the speakers: “Code Three! Intruder! Intruder in the Gate room!”

Sam touched the other woman briefly on the shoulder, then left the room at a quick jog, leaving Janet to issue orders to her assistants to secure the specimens and prepare for possible casualties.

 

[***Author's Note: Janet's theory is, in fact, correct. Goa'uld in my version of things will be both smarter and more dangerous than they were on the show, otherwise the Tau'ri win too easily. Also, psi powers are neat. Look for a mini-fic featuring these _slightly_ different/better bad guys in the near future.]

  
* * * * *  


Two Minutes Ago: 

“It's repulsive,” Daniel was saying, as he paced back and forth in his office. “It's pointless, and cruel, and stupid, and _exactly_ what I'd expect from Maybourne and his gang of thugs.”

Teal'c, who was listening attentively while standing in front of the overflowing desk (because the one 'guest chair' in the room was _also_ overflowing with books, thickly-stuffed file folders, and an assortment of yellowed, rune-carved bison bones) cocked his head slightly, making no immediate reply as he turned an object over and over in his large hands.

Daniel stopped in his pacing and stared at the thing in disgust.

“They sent us a _box_ of those, if you can believe it. Special delivery, straight from Area 51... which, if this is any indication, apparently has a special department staffed entirely with sadists.”

The thing Teal'c held was the size of an average flashlight; an angular thing of black plastic and aluminum, with a hand grip but no obvious trigger. There was something that might have been a large, squared-off barrel at one end, though it was scarcely an inch long, and seemed to be designed to push back into the device.

Experimentally, the jaffa set the end of the thing against the back of the chair beside him, then pressed it down, causing the short barrel shroud to sink flush with the casing.

_THUNNK_

Teal'c pulled the device away, and saw that there was now a circular, button-like object affixed to the chair, sitting within a slight indentation in the padding and cloth covering.

He looked up at Daniel.

“Is this intended to serve as a weapon?”

The other man shook his head, waving a hand in the general direction of Samantha's lab, at the other end of level twenty-two.

“No, _that_ box is waiting for Sam to look at it; Hammond wanted her to check them out before he decided on whether to issue them to the security people. _Those_ are pretty much just Tasers, only scaled up to something that could immobilize a polar bear.”

He pointed to the small thing imbedded in the chair.

“These are just as bad, though, maybe even worse. Try to pull that out.”

Teal'c regarded him impassively for a moment, then reached out and grasped the small object between finger and thumb... and arched an eyebrow when his fingertips slipped from the slick, beveled edges. The thing was deliberately designed to fit flush with the surface of whatever it attached itself to, and Daniel knew from his own experimenting that it was surprisingly difficult to find the purchase needed for a proper grip. Still, this was Teal'c, and after only a few moments he ripped the object free, then froze briefly, before lifting it for a closer examination.

The 'button' hadn't simply been stuck to the chair, it had been _nailed_ there. A very slender metallic spike extended from the thing's underside, fully the length of an adult human's smallest finger. The point was needle-sharp, as were the many long, backwards-facing barbs that served to hold it firmly in place. At the moment, those barbs were festooned with snarls and strands of upholstery stuffing, but it required little in the way of imagination to picture them covered in blood and messy globs of human flesh.

The Jaffa regarded the ugly, ragged hole that had been torn in the chair, then lifted his gaze to Daniel, and the archaeologist looked back, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Fun guys, the NID. That's a tracker on the end, so they can find her no matter where she goes. And I don't know if anyone human could stand the pain well enough to pull one of those out on their own.”

Teal'c looked troubled, weighing the small device in his hand.

“The Goa'uld have been known to use such things; marking a human or other intelligent being, and then hunting them for sport.” His expression darkened. “Oftentimes, the most experienced and skilled Jaffa of a defeated Goa'uld will be taken by the victor, to be used in such a way. I have witnessed many such hunts by Apophis and his allies; they derive great enjoyment in competing with each other to achieve the most memorable hunt and excessively painful kill.”

Daniel took the tagging device back, with the air of a man handling a piece of maggot-infested carrion.

“Well, humans aren't exactly slackers when it comes to barbarism.” He sighed, and set the thing aside. “At least General Hammond said no to using these. I'm still sure that I could get through to Dawn if I had another chance to talk to her.”

Linking his hands behind his back, Teal'c regarded the smaller man.

“She does not seem interested in speaking to you, Daniel Jackson, or to anyone else connected to the SGC, or she would already have done so. It may be that none of us will see the girl named Dawn again unless one of the other agencies of your government succeeds in capturing her.”

The realist in Daniel told him that the big man was most likely correct, which left him with a sick feeling inside. Given the techniques that the NID was willing to employ, he was afraid that Dawn would be serious hurt, maybe even killed, during any attempt at--

The shrill, electronic tones of a general alert sounded.

“Code Three! Intruder! Intruder in the Gate room!”

He looked at Teal'c, his expression turning hopeful. 

“Or, we may have a chance to talk to her right now.”

Teal'c inclined his head very slightly.

“Indeed.”

Daniel hurried to the door and out into the passage, with the Jaffa close behind.

* * * * *

One Minute Ago: 

George Hammond had made good progress on his paperwork over the last three hours, though there was still a considerable stack of it awaiting his attention.

He would have done better, maybe even finished up with today's workload entirely, if not for the constant influx of issues that could only be resolved by the SGC commander; namely himself.

The quantity of problems he had to solve was so large because the Stargate program was _not_ , contrary to popular belief among those in the know on Capitol Hill, solely in the business of sending military and scientific personnel through to other worlds and bringing them safely home again. Yes, they _did_ do exactly that on a daily basis, but the realities of the program had required considerable elaboration and expansion upon that basic theme.

Time and time again, an exploration team had discovered something that simply could not be carried back through the Gate. Be it a ruined city that promised hidden treasures, a cavern system with miles of ancient writings etched into its walls, (complete with mentions of forgotten cultures and clues concerning travel to further worlds), or a massive machine that might be exactly the sort of defensive weapon Earth needed so desperately... or might just as easily be a doomsday device capable of destroying them all.

All these and many places and artifacts besides, could only be studied off-world, and that meant sending things through the Gate to support long-term expeditions: food and water, tents and weapons, scientific equipment and the technical personnel to run it. In many cases it had been decided that the most efficient option was to build a permanent outpost, which necessitated sending not only construction materials, but also heavy equipment to erect buildings and dig fortifications.

Then there were also humanitarian considerations. More than once, they'd chanced upon small human settlements that were teetering on the very brink of starvation, or who were suffering from some crisis that Earth's knowledge and technology could easily solve, provided it could be delivered where it was needed.

They couldn't always help. Some things were beyond their capabilities, and some disasters were simply too large in scope. Even so, whenever they _could_ help they did, and George wasn't about to change that policy, no matter how much certain Senators and Congressmen complained about the costs. It might not have been their core mission, but there were things you did because they were _right_ , not because they were 'necessary'.

Admittedly, that broadening of their mission did cause some headaches. The SGC provided an extremely secure location for the Stargate; a near-perfect choke-point and fortification with which to hold hostile aggressors at bay... but the original facility had never been intended as a trans-planetary transportation hub.

Right now construction was underway that would provide them with two more inclined shafts for moving materials to and from the surface and delivering them to the staging areas adjacent to the Gate room. Of course, creating easier access to the surface went directly against the intent of putting the Gate here in the first place, but a great deal of thought had gone into planning and building the measures that would keep those lift shafts secure.

Interestingly, Daniel Jackson had been a great help to the engineers, drawing on his extensive knowledge of the tricks and traps used by ancient cultures to seal off the burial chambers in ancient tombs and pyramids. Updated to modern construction materials and techniques, they would present a nearly impregnable obstacle to anything trying to fight its way through Earth's defenders.

George took another sip of coffee from his mug and began reading through another classified memo, this time from the officer that served as his liaison with DARPA. 

It seemed that they were highly interested in the small samples of ore that had been returned from-- 

“Code Three! Intruder! Intruder in the Gate room!”

Hammond was up and out of his chair before the klaxon sounded twice, and through the door of his office before it had sounded the third time.

Crossing the corner of the conference area he came to the stairs that led down to the Control room, and started down. As he reached the bottom he heard Walter's voice, both through the speakers overhead and from across the width of the room itself.

“Daybreak two-nine! I repeat, Daybreak, code two-nine! Gate room!"

That answered his first question before he had a chance to actually ask it, and he moved to stand behind Master Sergeant Harriman, who was seated at the master console and staring down into the Gate room itself.

Hammond leaned in and felt himself scowl in consternation as he saw the SF detachment in the process of dropping or holstering the dart pistols they'd been given, and raising their rifles to ready.

“Sergeant, what's the situation?”

Walter pointed through the armored glass, indicating several objects around the room that didn't belong.

“I think those are explosive devices, sir. Sergeant Drake indicated that--”

George saw her appear in a flash of green light. The clothes were different, and she had her distinctive hair tied back this time, but it was the same girl; Dawn.

She was holding another device, some sort of crude-looking improvised thing, and the head of the security team wasted no time in unleashing a stream of automatic fire at her. The girl vanished in mid-scream, eyes wide with shock, and the explosive-wrapped container she held dropped to the ground and bounced, causing Walter to flinch slightly and Hammond to scowl more deeply.

He looked down at the Master Sergeant.

“Bomb disposal team to the Gate room, and go to alert condition four.”

As Walter made the appropriate calls, Hammond saw Jack enter the room below from the connecting door to Staging Two, look down, and react to the bomb at his feet with a very O'Neill-like expression of incredulous disgust.

“General!”

He turned to see Captain Carter hurrying up the stairs. She looked around as she crossed the room, obviously searching for something and not seeing it.

“Sir,” She said, nodding as she reached him. “Is she here?”

Hammond nodded grimly.

“She is, or at least, she was.” 

Nodding pointedly at the window, he watched as she glanced out at the Gate room, stopping short as she saw O'Neill there, along with the SP's, and the just-arriving bomb detail, accompanied by Master Sergeant Siler. Her eyebrows drew together, and she looked at him in growing confusion.

“ _Bombs?!_ ”

General Hammond moved to the adjacent workstation, and keyed in a command as he replied.

“We may have badly misjudged our visitor, Captain.” 

The screens in front of him flickered through multiple scenes, the newly-upgraded surveillance system scanning through dozens of corridors and rooms per second before locking on one in particular: a corridor junction with a higher-than average number of electrical conduits and fiber-optic cables passing through it. The girl was just setting another of her improvised explosive devices down against the wall there, as a group of technicians lunged forward to grab at her--

And they touched nothing as she vanished. 

Left facing the blinking lights of the IED, they correctly decided to back off, and moved to clear the area, passing out of view of the camera.

As the system resumed scanning locations within the base, Hammond looked back at Carter.

“It would seem she's decided to stop running.” The scan locked again, and he watched her nestle another device in among the machinery in one of the secondary ventilation hubs. “And she's attacking _us_.”

  
* * * * *  



	8. 'Convergence Part II: The Face of the Enemy'

Disclaimer thing: I make no claim to the characters who are not my characters, and although I am making use of them here, I promise I will return them promptly when I am finished.

Most amazing people on the planet?  
My Patrons:  
Charles Jackson, David Helmink, Janessa Ravenwood, Lilane Assous, Christopher, Visitant Sierra, Chris Ellis, Rickard, Paul Millsted, Michael Cronin, Jeffrey Clemons, Dale, Ethan Barton, Ken Hagler, Wil, Brandon Young, Andy Rowell, Maracel, Jessamyn Howe, Lauren Cash  
Special Guest Star: LunasMeow.

Author's Note: I wanted to thank my pre-reader Diana, for plowing through all of this stuff (often multiple times) and for very firmly telling me 'No' when I made a huge mistake in this chapter. The finished result is much, much better thanks to her, your reading experience is a better one because she watches over us all like a protective... mythological creature of majestic protect...tiveness?  
Anways, thanks D (or 'V', if you prefer :-P )

 

Chapter 8  
Convergence Part II: The Face of the Enemy

 

Cheyenne Mountain  
_Now:_

Dawn ignored the approaching shouts from the military guys, focusing instead on shoving the device in between the computers, or automated coin counters, or whatever the hell was inside the rows of blinking, humming cabinets in the very noisy room. The gap was a little too small for her to position it how she wanted, and finally she made an exasperated sound, straightening up so that she could kick the thing with all her might, her boot slamming over and over into the container, trying to _make_ it fit. One of the guard types come around the corner in a hurry, saw what she was doing and went wide-eyed with dismay.

“Are you in _sane?!_ ” He skidded to a stop, arms windmilling wildly to keep his balance. “Don't! Don't do that!” Remembering that he had a way to _make_ her stop, he took aim at her with one of those oversized dartgun thingies. Dawn flinched away, taking her boot off the bomb, and--

_FlickerSNAP_

She landed back in her sanctuary, and leaned heavily against the broken old Pepsi machine, feeling every single one of her hurts from earlier.

The adrenaline from all of this had been keeping her going so far, but now it felt like that last round of pills was already fading, and once again the flood of aches and misery was threatening to rise up and drown her. It wasn't unbearable, not yet, but still....

Looking at the little bottle on the table, she wondered if she should take more before going back to face the soldiers in their mountain.

_I really shouldn't. It hasn't been long at all since the last ones; I'm only hurting because I've been ducking and dodging and lugging these stupid things around, which is probably making the sprains and bruises and cracked bones and stuff worse than they were when I started._

She glanced sideways at the last of the bombs.

_This is it, the last one. I'm going to have to face them down this time. I'm going to have to make them listen, and not let them see how scared I am._

Slowly, carefully, she tested the mobility of her wrenched shoulder, and tried twisting her torso just a little, to feel out her sore ribs.

“Ow. Owieowieowwwww!”

It hurt. All of it, including her face and jaw and the pounding in her skull.

Dawn sighed, and twisted the top off the bottle.

_Screw it. I need more, or I won't be able to do this at all._

She chewed up the pills, washed them down with the bottle of water on the table, and dropped the little remote control into her jacket pocket. Drawing more heavily on the energies of the lake made her eyes tingle weirdly, and glow even brighter, but it also helped block out the pain, so she pulled on it as hard as she could without making her teeth buzz.

Her hands felt weak and shaky as she bent her knees slowly, keeping upright to spare herself the pain of leaning over. Taking hold of the plastic gasoline can with both hands, she felt it slosh a little as she straightened.

“Are we ready to go?”

There was no one else to answer her, so she answered herself, very quietly.

“Yes, we're all ready. All of us. Me and... just me.” She took deep breaths, and shook her head so she could feel her long ponytail sway back and forth behind her. “Okay. One, two, thr--”

_FlickerSNAP_

  
* * * * *  


Daniel hit the stairs up to the control room at a dead run, ignoring the pair of SF's he passed along the way, who were for some reason staring intently at a plastic gasoline can covered in tape and junk that someone had left lying in the floor next to one of the server cabinets.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he saw Hammond and Samantha peering down at the new console that was tied into the many, many cameras that had been installed throughout the base over the last week or so. Walter, sitting at his usual spot, was looking at someone standing immediately to his left, someone who looked _very_ out of place in their jacket, boots, and skintight jeans--

“Dawn!”

Sam and the General looked up in surprise as they realized she was there, and the girl shot them all a glance, eyes shimmering intensely green as she grunted with the effort of lifting something up to rest directly on top of the far left control station console. It was a reddish plastic gas can, wrapped around with tape and blocks and bundles of various things, and he stopped short as he recognized it as a near-twin of the one he'd seen downstairs in the server bay.

Dawn turned to face them, splitting the difference between Hammond and Samantha to her left, and where he had stopped short, by the stairs.

Almost within arm's reach of her, and even closer to the device on the console beside him, Walter was resolutely manning his station. Ignoring the large digital readout on the makeshift explosive (which was counting down from nine and a half minutes at this very moment), he leaned forward and activated his mic with admirable composure.

“Security to the Control room. EOD team to the Control room. Colonel O'Neill to the Control room.” 

Watching Dawn doing her best to watch all of _them_ , he took careful note of the stiff way she held herself; of the way she straightened as much as she could and raised her chin slightly, trying to look taller than she really was.

Daniel felt Teal'c at his shoulder, but the big man stayed back, content for now to simply observe. A glance at Hammond got him a tiny nod in return, so he cleared his throat.

“So, hey.... How've you been?”

Her focus narrowed, going from the room in general to him in particular, and a flat stare from those eerily glowing eyes was surprisingly disconcerting.

“Pretty awful, actually,” She answered. “But thanks. You know, for asking.” Her voice cracked a little from the tension that had her nearly rigid as she faced them, and he caught the way she surreptitiously wiped her palm on the hip of her jeans before dipping that hand into the pocket of her jacket.

Teal'c stirred slightly behind him, and Hammond was watching closely too.

Feeling more than a little tense himself, given the circumstances, Daniel licked his lips before forging onward.

“Sorry to hear that.” He watched her fumbling in that pocket, and sincerely hoped she wouldn't pull out some alien device that could broil them all where they stood. “Is there, uh... anything I can do to help?”

She'd finally found what she was looking for in that pocket, and withdrew a small black device with two rows of tiny buttons across its upper surface. Clutching the device tightly in her hand, she nodded at him once.

“There is.” Those eyes, shining much more brightly now than when last he'd seen her, touched each of them in turn before returning to him.

“You can either do what I say--” Holding Daniel's gaze, she pointed the thing in her hand at the device beside Walter's elbow. “--Or you can die.”

  
* * * * *  


Jack knew the second he saw it. He _knew_ , and he was very much a man who trusted his instincts. Still, there were times when you had to be sure beyond _any_ doubt, and this was one of them. So he left the first device where it lay, on its side by the door, and started a slow circuit around the Gate room, taking a very close look at each and every one of the _things_ that little miss Dawn had seen fit to deposit there.

Moments later he heard a faint commotion, and shortly after _that_ Walter's voice boomed out from the speakers overhead.

“Security to the Control room. EOD to the Control room. Colonel O'Neill to the Control room.” 

Jack glanced up from what he was doing, through the lower of the two banks of glass in the wall behind him. The angle was bad, but he could just make out the back of someone's head, and part of a very non-regulation ponytail.

The head of the SF detail looked at him questioningly. He shook his head slightly, and knelt to cautiously poke at the second device.

“I need to finish up here first, Sergeant.” He traced a wire with a fingertip, then frowned and lightly flicked the bundle of dynamite, considering the result thoughtfully before continuing. “This should only take a couple of minutes....”

  
* * * * *  


“--Or you can die.”

Daniel heard the words, and they were scary words. He'd heard them before, from Apophis and a few others, and there had always been a chill that had touched him in those moments. An awareness that yes, he was mortal, and that the being before him was both capable and willing to carry through on that threat. And even though he might pretend otherwise, the fear he felt at those times was very real.

This time was different.

Dawn was doing her level best to stare them all down, and the inhuman light floating in her eyes helped quite a bit, but it still wasn't enough. The fear she couldn't quite keep from her voice, the brittle tension that radiated from her as she stood there in her sparkly top, and designer jeans, and stylish boots... No. Just no.

He simply didn't believe she would kill them. 

Not for one second.

It took a few seconds for that realization to fully form, however and Hammond spoke into that pause, breaking the tense silence.

“Young lady, I think you'll find that we don't respond well to threats.”

Her head turned fractionally, those unreadable eyes landing on the General.

“Neither do I.” She gestured at the bomb again with her control device. “That's why I'm here.”

From beside Hammond, Sam spoke.

“Why _are_ you here? You stayed away for a week, so why do this now?”

Dawn started to point her control device at _Sam_ , which, okay, might have meant that it was simply a very versatile alien tool that could both trigger bombs _and_ cause human bodies to implode... only he saw the girl realize what she was doing, hesitate, then aim it back at the bomb, shaking her head slightly as if she were having trouble focusing properly.

“I am doing this because... because I want you to _stop it._ ” Her glowing gaze sharpened, and she stared at Samantha for only a moment before addressing the General once more. “Stop chasing me. Leave me alone, or I swear I'll destroy this whole place.”

The LED display on the device counted down past eight minutes, and Daniel could see Hammond visibly holding back an angry retort; the older man was no fool, to bluster and shout when it would only escalate a dangerous situation. And he could see Samantha, frowning slightly at the threat and probably performing lightning-fast mental calculations that told her exactly how much damage those improvised explosives could really do to a hardened military installation... and finding the result to be quite a ways short of 'destroying the whole place'.

“Even if I were willing to accede to your demands--” And Hammond's tone made his feelings on that matter clear. “--I still wouldn't be able call off the task force that's pursuing you.”

Dawn's all-too-visible efforts to stand strong and tall before them cracked slightly, and she blinked several times.

“...What?”

Sam spoke up.

“We're not the ones trying to track and capture you. That's another government organization; the NID.”

The girl stared at her dumbly for a moment.

“Then... then make them stop.” Her eyes darted back to Hammond. “Order them to stop!” 

He shook his head.

“I can't,” He told her, not unkindly. “They're following their orders, and they'll keep following them until you're captured and neutralized.” 

“But I haven't done anything to them.” She sounded dazed, like she couldn't believe that Hammond hadn't immediately agreed to her demands; that the remote detonator in her hand, and the threat of the explosive devices hadn't functioned as some sort of magic wand or mystical talisman that would instantly make everything okay.

“I haven't done anything to _any_ of you,” She said, plaintively. “Why can't you just leave me _alone_?”

Daniel made his voice as soft and non-threatening as he could.

“ _We have_ left you alone. But like I told you when we first met, the people in charge can't ignore you. Not when we don't understand what you are, and _especially_ not when you do things like this.”

He pointedly glanced at the bomb, still counting relentlessly downwards, and she looked uncertainly from him, to the device, and then to the detonator in her hand.

  
* * * * *  


Jack had finished his check of all eight devices in the room, and was heading down the ramp from the Gate platform when reinforcements finally arrived.

The four SF's had stood guard the whole while, all of them twitchy and ready to shoot at the first suspicious movement... which meant that Siler got a bit of a shock when he came into the room at a run, with four barrels tracking him for an instant before the weapons were quickly turned aside.

Awkward in their heavy, bomb-resistant suits, the ordinance disposal team entered on the heels of the Master Sergeant, and hastily moved to get a read on the various devices. Jack saw Siler, still near the door, kneel down and inspect the one that had been dropped there. He touched his fingertips to the spreading pool of leaking liquid, rubbed them together, and sniffed at the result. A cursory glance at the device itself followed, and then he looked up, his eyes meeting O'Neill's.

“Colonel, this isn't--”

Jack cut him off.

“I know.”

From behind the ring platform, one of the bomb techs straightened from looking at the devices clustered there and called to him.

“Sir, none of these are--”

“I know!”

Glancing around the room, he saw the other techs reacting similarly, and he turned around, finding the head of the security team and indicating her rifle.

“Put it away, Sergeant.”

She looked confused.

“Sir?”

“You heard me.” He pointed to each of the other three in turn. “All of you, if you see the target, stay with non-lethal _only_ ; that's an order.”

They all slung their rifles, and either unholstered their dart pistols or retrieved them from where they'd been drooped on the ground.

Jack turned back to Siler.

“Clean all this up. We need to send through SG:11's resupply on schedule, or we might lose them. It'll be dark there soon, and that planet has blizzards that make a category-five hurricane look like a sneeze.”

The other man nodded and hurried away, while Jack looked at the female SF.

“Sergeant, leave your detail here and come with me.” He tapped the pistol she now held for emphasis. “This, and only this, and only when I say. Clear?”

She nodded crisply.

“Clear, sir.”

The two of them headed for the corridor that looped around to the lower-level stairs.

  
* * * * *  


“What if I _promise_ I won't hurt anyone? What if I promise to never, ever come down here again?”

Daniel's heart twisted at the pleading in her voice, but he couldn't tell the girl what she wanted to hear.

“They won't listen. Even if we believe you, they won't. And now that you've shown them that you're willing to do something like this, they won't stop until they have you locked away somewhere.”

She bit at her lip, and flickered a few feet to one side, and then back again, in what Daniel supposed was a variation on pacing back and forth in agitation. Her eyes snapped back to his.

“What if you're lying? What if you really can make them stop and you're just _saying_ you can't?”

“I'm not. We can't.”

Another flicker, and she was standing right behind Walter, with the detonator hovering inches from the bomb, which was at six minutes now, and still counting.

“I can be gone before it goes off, but you're stuck here.” She fixed the General with that unearthly, shimmering stare. “Call them. The FBI, or CIA, whichever stupid jumble of letters you said is after me. Call them, and I'll tell them myself. I'll explain that they don't have to chase me.”

The timer was still counting down.

Hammond looked at Walter, who was still sitting with remarkable calm through all of this.

“Sergeant, you're relieved. Get clear.”

The bespectacled man shook his head fractionally, eyes still resolutely on his panel.

“I'd rather stay, sir. We have a scheduled supply transfer for P3X117.” He carefully turned his head just far enough to meet his commanding officer's eyes. “There are twenty-six people in that expedition, sir, and there's a storm system moving in. That transfer _has_ to happen on schedule.”

The General nodded slowly.

“Very well.”

Dawn was looking back and forth between them with an increasingly lost and helpless look on her face. 

“Is everyone in this place just _crazy?!_ You're too busy what whatever it is you _do_ down here that you don't even care that I'm gonna blow you all _up?!_ ”

A new voice came from across the room, and Daniel felt a new presence beside him as Jack came up the stairs, squeezing past Teal'c and himself. 

“You're not blowing anyone up.” 

He stepped past Daniel and stood facing the girl. A compact, tough-looking SF that had been following the Colonel took up a position just behind him, her dart pistol held in both hands and aimed at the floor.

Dawn backed away a step, raising the detonator as if to ward him off. 

“I _will_ do it! I don't want to, but I will _so_ blow you all up unless you do what I say right _now!_ ”

Jack regarded her for several long seconds, then went up on tip-toe to get a better look at what she was holding.

“Okay, with what, that? That isn't a detonator. It's a stereo remote.” 

She stood stock-still for several endless seconds, eyes wide and mouth open, then, in a much softer, much smaller voice: 

“Um... no it isn't.” 

O'Neill raised both eyebrows to their maximum elevation.

“Yes it is. Looks like it's for the new Hitachi home system; I was thinking about getting one of those myself.” He turned to Daniel. “They're nice, only I'm not sure anyone needs a CD player anymore, y'know? The MP3 player and radio pretty much cover it all, unless you want to go retro and plug in a turntable to play your old vinyl collection--”

Hammond cut in.

“Colonel, what are you saying?”

Jack nodded to the IED resting on the console.

“They're duds, sir. All of them.” He looked back at Dawn. “Not bad for mockups, unless someone who actually knows how to build a bomb gets a close look at them. And it's a little overkill, don't you think? Gasoline, dynamite, a pipe bomb, _and_ C4? Why not go for broke and throw some some silly-putty plutonium, nerve gas and Anthrax in there too?”

She stared at him in helpless, hopeless dismay, and seemed to deflate slightly, slumping and hugging her middle with one arm even as the hand with the remote fell to hang limply at her side.

“Dawn?” Daniel didn't try to move towards her, that was clearly useless. “You didn't need to do all this. If you needed help, or wanted to talk, you could have just asked.”

She looked utterly defeated, listing slightly to one side, her shimmering eyes staring off at nothing.

“It wouldn't matter.” Her voice was a barely-audible whisper. “You won't stop them. They're everywhere, and they keep finding me, and next time they're going to catch me, and then they'll--”

She looked at him, eyes devoid of all hope,and between one instant and the next she flickered green and was gone.

Everyone shared a look, and the accumulated tension of the last few minutes flowed out of the room. Daniel and Teal'c moved to join the others as Jack turned to Hammond. 

“Sir, isn't there any way you can get the NID to back off?” Seeing Sam and Daniel's faintly surprised looks he shrugged defensively. “What? I mean, she _is_ a monumental pain, and sort of a brat, but you can't help but feel sorry for her.” He paused, and then held up two fingers, a very slight distance apart. “A _little_. A very, very little.”

The General shook his head.

“I'm sorry, but until we can give Washington some solid evidence that she isn't a Goa'uld, and isn't a threat, my hands are tied.” He looked unhappily at the fake bomb that Walter was now carefully lifting and moving to a clear space in front of a currently unused console out of the way. “In fact, the NID will probably use this incident as evidence that she's even more dangerous than we'd thought; what would happen if she used real explosives next time? What's to keep her from doing something like this at a nuclear power station, or the Pentagon, or on board Air Force One?”

“Uh, General?” 

He looked at Walter, who pointed out through the window where the oversized door to Staging Two was sliding aside to show stacks of supplies on low, many-wheeled transport dollies.

“Sir, Master Sergeant Siler reports the Gate room is secure, and the Quartermaster confirms that he has the full resupply ready for transport to P3X117.”

Hammond expelled a sharp breath, then nodded.

“Very well, Sergeant. Cancel the alert and prepare to dial the Gate.”

  
* * * * *  


_I don't know what to do._

She still had a fondness for libraries, and this one was almost perfect. It was lit by warmly-tinted bulbs in lovely ceiling fixtures and wall sconces, it surrounded her with walls of beautifully-made books, and it smelled of rich leather bindings and smooth ivory pages filled with adventures and poetry and thoughtful, profound things. There were comfy chairs and couches scattered around, small tables of dark, polished wood, and lots of little nooks and corners that housed shelves and shelves of yet more books.

All of that, and yet it was only _almost_ perfect, because she was utterly alone. Despite the fact that there were currently half a dozen other people there, perusing the collection or sitting and quietly reading, Dawn was by herself, because no one here knew her name, or had any reason at all to help her.

She wandered around the room briefly, for lack of anything better to do.

Her head was spinning from too many pain pills, and her stomach felt like it was in free-fall thanks to her stupid plan's utter and complete failure. She wasn't sure which was more likely, that she would pass out any second from the pills or collapse in a weeping, pathetic mess from the utter hopelessness that was closing in from every side.

Glancing around she made sure no one was looking, then pictured a place a few hundred feet away, and a fair distance higher up.

_FlickerSNAP_

Reappearing under the open, nighttime sky, she took a deep breath of the faintly chilly air and looked out over a breathtaking sight.

The Royal Paradise Hotel and Spa was _the_ place for vacationers to stay in Vail. From where she stood, on one of the highest balconies, the huge, rambling structure was like a palace from a fairy tale. Ranging from two stories tall in places to ten stories where she stood, it reminded her a little of that one place in the Lord of the Rings movies, where the Horse King lived--the big wooden hall on top of a massive, steep-sided prominence of rock.

Only this place was a _building_ as large as that prominence, or close enough to not really matter, and it was made all of warm stone, wood and glass, shining in the night with hundreds of yellow-gold lights. Dawn loved it. She'd been there a dozen times over the last week, dining on tiny portions of amazing delicacies at the five star restaurant, soaking up the comforting ambiance of the library, or simply drifting through the endless beautiful spaces and watching the streams of beautiful people who passed through.

Usually just being there made her feel better; it was hard to feel scared or alone in such a magnificent, almost magical place... but she was feeling both of those things now. 

She searched in her jacket till she found the little platinum case, and withdrew a slim cigarette. Lighting it and inhaling deeply, she stared down at the courtyard far below. Exhaling smoke, she said aloud what she'd thought a minute before.

“I don't know what to do.”

Her plan to bluff the people under the mountain, to scare them so badly that they would have no choice but to help her... had failed utterly. They hadn't really seemed to be scared at _all_ , at least not the main ones. Tense, and concerned, and very serious, but not _scared_. Not like Dawn herself would have been, if she'd been face to face with what she thought was a bomb, and surrounded by a dozen more.

“And no matter how nice Daniel tries to act, I can't just let them do whatever they want to me. Buffy trusted the Initiative, and look what _they_ turned out to be.”

She took a smaller draw on her cigarette (she'd finally found some here that she liked, a very expensive and elegant-looking brand they didn't make in her home universe) and watched the people down in the courtyard as the pleasant little nicotine rush came and went. 

Smoking, of course, was the perfect thing to do when you were moping and feeling depressed. Dawn had decided a while ago that if you were going to feel like crap anyway, you might as well wrap your lungs in a warm, comforting blanket. Granted, it was a comfy blanket that might eventually end up killing you, but at least it felt quite nice in the meantime.

_And speaking of things that are yummy but that I shouldn't do, I might as well go downstairs and eat some french deserts in the restaurant._ The resort actually had three separate restaurants, but her favorite was the largest and fanciest--Radiance. The staff there were all used to snooty, attractive rich people, so Dawn found that she was able to blend in quite easily, and of course the food was amazing. 

_The downside is that I've been here a lot, and those NYE guys... MIP guys? Whatever, those government goon guys will probably rappel down through the skylight like five minutes after I sit down at a table._ Drawing smoke into her lungs, she felt her self-pity levels increase by what she estimated to be a further twenty-seven percent... which by her math put her at one hundred and six percent and climbing.

_Does it really matter_ when _they get me? If it's right now, or a day from now or next week, it's still going to happen. And if I'm going to get experimented on anyway, I suppose it won't hurt anything to stuff myself with mega-calorie chocolate treats till I'm a bloated mess. Nobody will care whether I'm thin and pretty if the evil scientists are just going to turn me into a robot demon monster anyway._

That was it; _that_ was how Dawn knew that she had really and truly given up.

Yesterday, someone could have put a gun to her head and she _still_ would have refused a second helping of desert; her slim curves and small waist meant more to her than any mere threat of death... or at least any hypothetical threat of make-believe death.

Now, though, here, tonight, she had no energy left to care. So here she was, trying to visualize a clear image of the dimly-lit coatroom near the entrance of the restaurant, all so that she could pop down and start gorging herself silly, finally giving in to the maddening chocolate obsession that just _had_ to be another thing she got from Buffy's DNA---

\--And she stopped, right there, because without any warning, something passed through her. Both her body and the world around her resonated in sympathy with a ringing, as if a bronze bell the size of the entire resort had been struck, sending out a tone that only she could hear.

Dawn gritted her teeth, then winced as that woke the dull pain in her sore jaw.

“Playing with their donut-ring again,” She muttered, staring off in the distance toward the source of the disturbance. She couldn't see the mountain, but she knew that was the source of the vast, bell-like tones, hugely-resonant sounds that weren't really sounds. She'd noticed that they always came in groups of seven, with each of the tones different from the rest, with some of the sequences repeated fairly often, and others only occurring once, as far as she could tell. 

What any of it was for, what the military people were actually doing... she had absolutely no clue. 

“And no one knows it's happening except me,” She took another drag from her cigarette, then flicked it off into empty space, watching the spark trail downwards through the immense lake of crystalline energy that was stirring to life, invisible to everyone who wasn't the Key. She saw the first shimmers of an emerald aura start to form, running up and down her arms, across her body, and down the length of her hair. Idly she wondered if anyone down below, or at one of the windows across the way would notice her glowing outline. So long as she kept her connection to the power open, the nimbus that surrounded her would only intensify, till the seventh bell rang and the entire lake began its slow, stately rotation. She watched it all glumly, and pulled her long ponytail around so that she could stroke her hands down it, alternating one then the others, like a lonely child clutching their favorite stuffed animal tight.

“They think they're so smart, with their secret base, and their secret ring-thingie, and their secret... secrets.”

It was _really_ fortunate that the balcony had a high railing, because those last two pills had kicked in and she realized she was now feeling no pain at all. In fact, she was having a _teeny_ bit of difficulty feeling her fingers and toes. Shaking her head to try and clear it, she frowned at the lake as the second tone sounded, and a million, trillion little structures began to unfold from the construct like parts of an infinitely complex origami, as it prepared to do whatever arcanely incomprehensible thing it did.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Dawn stood up straighter as something occurred to her. 

“Secrets? They have secrets?” 

She looked again towards where she could sense the center of it all, deep below that mountain, and she felt her heartbeat trip over itself as she suddenly, impossibly felt a tiny sliver of hope flare to life inside her.

“ _Secrets!”_

_FlickerSNAP_

She was in her Crypt, many miles from where she'd just been, beneath a much older, much shabbier ski resort. Moving with careless haste, she rushed to the booth where several dozen bits of minor loot lay strewn all about. Watches and purses and Ipods and many other things besides. Gold and silver compacts and mirrors that ultra-wealthy tourists had 'misplaced', a jeweled dog collar that she was fairly certain was not actually intended for any sort of canine, and finally what she was looking for.

Grabbing it up, she hurried to make sure it was working, and as the third bell sounded she concentrated on where she wanted to go.

_FlickerSNAP_

  
* * * * *  


“--Just road flares, see? Spray painted and bundled up with electrical tape to look like dynamite.” Jack turned the dummy bomb around so that the other side faced out, towards himself and Teal'c. “And this; modeling clay for the C4, easiest thing in the world, except for how the wires are just pushed into it, without a detonator--kind of a dead giveaway.”

Teal'c nodded sagely.

“I was indeed puzzled by the sudden display of military skill and resourcefulness exhibited by the girl named Dawn, when in our previous encounters she had displayed no such knowledge.”

O'Neill was busy twisting the cap of the gas container until he could remove it and sniff carefully. He looked at Carter. 

“Just water. And I noticed that none of them are full; just a gallon or so in each one.”

She glanced at the device and nodded.

“That might mean that she's sharply limited in how much mass she can take with her on a teleport.” She turned and reached over to pick up one of the old-style telephone handsets that were tied into the base communications system. “I'll make sure that the other decoy devices are sent to my lab; if they all weigh in about the same, that might give us a rough idea of her upper limits.”

The digital countdown on the device reached zero, and a muffled buzz sounded until Jack reached behind the display and pulled a small battery free. Peering at the circuitry there, he smirked approvingly.

“I think this is just a kitchen timer with the casing cracked off. You can buy these for ten bucks, almost anywhere. And most of these wires don't even connect to anything, they're just shoved into it and held down with a blob of hot glue.”

Daniel had been growing visibly impatient throughout all this.

“Okay, so she's _not_ a bomb expert, and neither are any of us except you, Jack.”

Sam looked up from her phone call briefly.

“I am, Daniel. I just wasn't close enough to get a good look at it.”

He gave her a reproachful look.

“Okay, so only Jack and Samantha are bomb experts, but the question is--”

“I am proficient in the construction of explosive devices as well, Daniel Jackson.” Teal'c met Daniel's stare with total aplomb. “However, my experience is with technology that is far in advance of Earth's, which is why I did not recognize the deception.”

The archeologist hung his head for a moment, and Jack thought he heard something that might have been a string of softly uttered profanity in several ancient languages before Daniel looked up once more.

“As I was saying, the _question_ is... what happens now?”

Jack looked towards Hammond, but he was busy coordinating the preparations for the supply transfer to their offworld team. 

“Well, Daniel, I think what has to happen now is we wait till Dawn sticks her head up again... and then we shoot her.” Seeing the looks that got him from the others, he hurried to add: “With a _Zat_.” He gestured to the SF sergeant, who hadn't been dismissed, and was quietly standing guard from a vantage in the corner, her gas-powered pistol still in hand. “Or one of these dart guns, whichever.” Sam relaxed, and Teal'c lowered the eyebrow that he'd arched. Jack, a little hurt at their ready belief that he'd casually murder the girl, gave an exasperated wave of his arms. “C'mon, you really think I'd do that? She's not _that_ annoying!” 

The other two were in clear agreement with him, but Daniel's gaze was still troubled.

“Jack, she clearly has some serious trust issues, and what the NID is doing has only made them worse. Hitting her with a Zat, or even one of those darts, will only make her think we're the same as they are.” He glanced out at the Gate room, where the transfer team was making ready with their crates and cases, and then back to O'Neill. “She came to _us_ , she tried to talk to us, even if she went about it all wrong. If our response to that is to attack, we'll lose whatever credibility we have.”

Jack gave the younger man a slightly sidelong look, sort of a medium-strength 'oh _really?_ ' sort of deal.

“Daniel, the reason she came here is because she's _been_ here. She tried to pull her little scam on us because she probably has no idea where the NID _are_.”

“Okay, but it _was_ a scam, Jack. She didn't try to kill us, she tried to _trick_ us.” His gesture encompassed the entirety of the SGC. “Look around. Nobody got hurt. _Again_.” He glanced at the decoy bomb and shook his head slightly. “She's not a threat, and she's not a killer. Let's not treat her like one.”

O'Neill was experiencing a very, very mild return of that urge; the one where he felt compelled to find the nearest stunning or tranquilizing weapon available and shoot Daniel with it, just once, just to see what it was like.

Because it was annoying sometimes, having to argue with someone who was that passionate, and determined, and, well, _articulate_. 

In spite of that, certain facts remained, and sometimes it fell to Jack to point them out.

“None of us want to hurt her, Daniel. But sooner or later we _have_ to get her to hold still long enough to x-ray her head, or we'll never be sure she doesn't have a snake in there.” He looked over at Carter. “Short of zapping or shooting her with _something_ , is there anything we can do to hold her in one spot?”

With an apologetic glance at Daniel, she shook her head. 

“I don't see how, sir. No physical trap or restraints would hold her, and we simply don't have the technology to create any sort of energy field or container that might have a chance of working. Area 51 _does_ have a partially-functional gravity generator that was salvaged by SG:9 a few weeks ago, but we don't yet understand how it functions.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head again. “I don't think that would gain us anything. A localized distortion of spacetime _might_ give her some trouble, only it would have to be much more intense than anything a human being could survive.”

Jack, Daniel and Teal'c simply looked at her, and after a few seconds she realized that some rephrasing was needed.

“Increasing the gravity might possibly keep her from teleporting in or out of an area, but for it to have a chance of working, the gravity would have to be so powerful that it would kill her... and everyone else within several miles.”

Jack took that in, considered it, then: 

“Oh.”

Over at the control console, Walter had been joined by two other technicians. The preparations for the materials transfer had been completed, and the dialing sequence commenced.

Carter kept going, warming to her subject as she went.

“Holding her inside an artificial gravity gradient probably wouldn't work anyway. We don't know the mechanics of what she's actually doing, of course, so there's no way to be sure, but even if it _is_ a wormhole and not some sort of matter-energy-matter transposition or restructuring, the curvature from a gravity field would likely never be steep enough to--”

“Carter.”

She stopped short, as always just a little disappointed that no one else on the team could follow along when she tried to explain something that fascinated her.

For his part, O'Neill could only look at Jackson and spread his hands, indicating his helplessness when even science was unable to give them another option.

“Chevron One encoded.”

Tuning out that familiar mantra was easy enough; all of them had seen and heard the process many, many times.

Daniel sighed; the longest and heaviest sigh he could manage.

“Okay. I see how stunning her might seem like the only choice. But think about it. She has a power that may be unique. We've never seen _anything_ like it. Not even the Goa'uld can do what she can do. Not without a set of rings that weight ten tons or so,and then only from one set to another.”

With the dialing underway, Hammond left Walter's side and rejoined them.

Daniel nodded at the General, then looked at Carter.

“Sam, tell me this. Assuming we end up with an unconscious Dawn lying on a stretcher, and it turns out she _doesn't_ have a Goa'uld inside her... what then? Do you have any way of containing her at that point that you didn't have before?”

“Chevron Two encoded.”

Carter looked profoundly uncomfortable, but could only shrug helplessly.

“...No, not really. As soon as she regained consciousness again she'd be gone. Anything we can do to her to disrupt her concentration severely enough--assuming that would even work--would amount to torture, especially if it had to continue indefinitely.”

He looked at Hammond.

“If we capture her, and clear her, what happens after that? Is the NID going to let her go? Is Washington going to allow her her freedom?”

The older man scowled faintly, not happy with either the question asked, or the answer he had to give.

“You know they won't, Doctor Jackson. Someone who has unfettered, instant access to any location, and to any person?” He shook his head.

Daniel folded his arms and stared back at him.

“No, they won't. They'll put a bullet in her brain, or keep her in a drugged coma for the rest of her life, and there are probably worse things they might do that I don't really care to speculate about.” He looked at the female SF Sergeant, who was quietly observing all of this, dart gun in hand. His lips twisted at he glanced at the weapon, then he turned back to the others.

“We can't force her to cooperate, and we especially can't drug or stun her. If we do, we're effectively condemning her to death or constant, unending torture, one way or the other.”

“Chevron Three encoded.”

O'Neill watched Hammond think it over for several long seconds, then reluctantly nod.

“I can't make any promises concerning the NID or Washington, but all right, we'll exercise all possible restraint should she show up here again.” He gave Daniel a look, and there was no doubting the iron resolve within him. “Provided she does no harm to any of our people, and no damage to the facility. If she does, then my priorities in the matter are clear.”

Daniel's relief was palpable.

“Don't worry, sir. Everything we've seen shows a reluctance to do anything that might actually hurt us.”

And then, without fuss or bother, it happened.

In the center of the room, in between where Walter sat and Hammond stood, there was a green flash, and much cheerier Dawn flickered out of thin air and whirled to face them, ponytail swinging wide as she grinned in triumph.

“Ha! There you are! Time for plan B! I thought of a fan _tastic_ plan B!”

She was fumbling with something in her hands, something smaller than a bomb, though larger than a remote. When she raised it, they all could see that it was--

Daniel groaned, eyes closing, and Jack looked at her incredulously. 

“Oh, fer cryin' out loud! _Seriously?_ ”

She was holding a video camera.

“Chevron Four encoded.”

Once again, Walter was staying focused on the task at hand. Daniel, for his part, reopened his eyes halfway; sort of a disbelieving squint.

“Dawn, this is a terrible, terrible--”

“You are totally going to do what I say now,” She gloated, almost dancing in place as she panned the small camcorder over their faces, then around the room. “You might not be scared of blowing up, but I'll bet you're scared of people finding out what you do down here, or else you wouldn't be doing it... down here.”

She caught sight of the Gate through the observation window, and gasped in delight. “Oh my god! It _spins?!_ ”

There was a flicker, and suddenly she was down on the platform directly in front of the Gate, looking up at the spinning ring through the viewfinder of her camera.

Carter immediately hurried forward to the secondary console, while Hammond gave Daniel a baleful look.

“Doctor Jackson, having our entire operation exposed to the world is _not_ an acceptable outcome.”

Daniel nodded, over and over, visibly trying to come up with something and coming up empty. 

The Sergeant with the dart gun was to O'Neill for orders.

“I had a clear shot, sir. If I get another chance should I--?”

“Not yet,” Jack told her absently.

He was looking down to where the girl was moving both the camera and her head in slow, arcing loops from left to right as she tried to follow the rotation of the inner ring... and nearly falling repeatedly as did so.

He looked at the other men.

“Is it just me, or does she seem sort of... high?”

  
* * * * *  


Dawn had this.

She _totally_ had this. Secret government people were most afraid of their secrets coming out, and the spinny donut-ring was obviously the main secret around here. 

She was getting some really good video of it, too, until she realized that the people down in the big room with her were staring at her in absolute horror for some reason, with some of them waving their arms from side to side, gesturing at her to what? Make room? Because they wanted to come and stand up close too?

“Dawn!”

She winced as the blonde woman's voice _boomed_ out over the speakers, shockingly loud. She looked up and saw her behind the glass, looking very tense and upset.

“What?!” She yelled back. The ring was very loud from this close, making a sort of rumbling sound that seemed to shake the whole room.

“You have to get away from there right now! It isn't safe to be standing there when--”

_FlickerSNAP_

Dawn was back in the room with them all, and when one of the tech guys sitting at the control desk turned in his chair and tried to reach for her camera, she just--

_FlickerSNAP_

\--Laughed at him from the middle of the room.

“ _Ha!_ Too slow!”

The blonde lady was waving the nerdy guy back into his chair, and she gave Dawn a harried look, which was of course awesomely captured on video for all of time.

“Chevron Five encoded.”

“Whatever you do, _don't_ stand in front of the Gate when it's active. It's extremely--”

“Young lady!” The older man, the bald one who acted like he was in charge, was looking at her grumpily. “I've tried my best to be patient, but there's a limit, and you are there right now.”

Dawn giggled.

“Really? And what are you gonna do about it?”

And then she--

  
* * * * *  


She stuck out her tongue at him. She straight out dared him to stop her, and then she stuck out her _tongue_.

At a _General_. 

Even Jack was a little impressed at the nerve that required.

“Chevron Six encoded.”

Hammond's teeth were grinding together almost audibly, and in return the girl gave him a sweet smile, then flickered around the room, to the stairs, to the window, to the console where the decoy bomb still lay. She aimed the camera at it for a second, then beamed at each of them in turn.

“I'm going to record in here, and then out there, and then I'll get video of the rest of this whole place, and you'll _have_ to make those other guys stop chasing me, or else I'll give a copy to every single television station in Colorado!” She seemed positively giddy, like she'd suddenly found a way out after days spent in an inescapable trap. 

Another flicker, and she was beside Walter again, reaching out to nudge him lightly on his shoulder.

“Hey. I was wondering. What exactly _is_ a Sherv... veron?” 

Throughout all of this, Teal'c had been standing and watching events unfold with a sort of detached serenity.

And Jack? Jack was weighing options. The girl had nearly disrupted the Gate dialing, which would have endangered the lives of everyone on the ice planet mission. She was about to get video of something that would cause massive disruptions throughout the world if it were released, possibly even leading to the program being shut down or otherwise crippled. Despite Daniel's earlier appeals, at some point the lesser of two evils was all you had.

He glanced at Sergeant Drake, and she met his eyes, waiting for the order. He opened his mouth to tell her, and--

“Chevron Seven.... Locked!”

Dawn looked over at him.

“Huh? What's that mean?”

From out in the Gate room came the unmistakable sound of the event horizon going _KaWHOOSH_

And everyone in the room (again, excepting Walter) saw Dawn suddenly stagger and nearly fall as she was enveloped in an aura of exquisitely pure emerald light.

She gasped, folding over like she'd been gut-punched, and looked straight at Daniel, her shimmering eyes full of absolute terror.

“ _What?_ ” She gasped the word, then shuddered as the aura around her began to smear and stretch, out and away from her. “What is _happening?!_ ”

  
* * * * *  


It was nightmarish, the way the world had suddenly opened up beneath her feet and started sucking her down into oblivion.

It was Glory's Gate all over again, yawning wide to swallow her whole and scatter her to every dimension that had ever existed. It was a hurricane, a tornado, a hungry whirlpool, and it was intent on pulling her forward, right through the glass window, through the same _sideways-through_ place she used to move herself when she jumped.

She'd felt this pull before, sometimes, when the ringing announced the awakening of whatever artifact contained the energy lake that she drew upon. Sometimes when the wheel started spinning, she felt a barely-there tugging, instead of a faint pressure, and she'd wondered what it meant.

Here, in this place, that sensation was a million, a _billion_ times worse, like a flash-flood that was trying to wash her away, like a rip tide was trying to pull her down into darkness that went on forever.

She couldn't fight it, not when it was this close. 

So she did the only thing she _could_ do, and shut the power away.

  
* * * * *  


For several seconds the girl had stood there, swaying and whimpering, and Jack watched with the rest as the intense green of her aura stretched longer and longer, aimed like a compass needle towards the magnet of the StarGate, which was now filled with the rippling pool of the event horizon.

When the light surrounding her abruptly vanished, she held herself there briefly, then straightened a little from her slump. Her eyes, when she opened them, were normal human eyes. Pretty, but normal.

The room was very quiet, till Walter spoke in a conversational tone.

“Offworld team reports they're in good condition, sir. Materials transfer commencing. Quartermaster estimates ten minutes to complete.”

That seemed to release the rest of them from their stasis, and Daniel cleared his throat softly.

“Dawn? Is everything... okay?”

She blinked, looking a little lost.”

“What?”

Jack leaned forward slightly.

“He asked if you wanted to gloat about your brilliant plan some more. Maybe get in a couple of good supervillain laughs, to go along with the monologue?”

She looked at him confusion, looking much younger and much more human without the glowing eyes.

“No, I...” She caught sight of the open Gate, and the team of men in arctic survival gear guiding the first of fifteen motorized transport dollies slowly and carefully up the ramp, each one of them stacked with crates, cases, bundles, and containers. When the first dolly--and the two men guiding it--vanished through the wall of light, she flinched, and stared at them all in shock.

“Is that what it does? You use it to _kill_ people?!”

Carter leaned over Walter and touched a control, and the armored shield lowered into place, blocking their view of the Gate room.

Daniel, still carefully keeping his distance, tried to reassure her.

“No, no, nothing like that. It's a--”

“It's a classified program,” Hammond interjected. He regarded the girl with a mix of suspicion and surprise. “Do you really not know what that device does? Even though you came through it ten days ago?”

She shook her head, shuddering, and clutched herself tight with both arms, like she was freezing.

“Whatever it is, please turn it off.” Everyone in the room, even Walter, looked at her in confusion, and her voice became shrill. “ _Please!_ Turn it _off!_ ”

Feeling the beginnings of another hunch, Jack took one step towards her. She flinched, her eyes shining and the aura flaring around her once more, and he stopped there to see what she would do. 

Daniel looked ready to chastise him, and Carter was giving him an inquiring look.

“Sir?”

He held up one hand.

“Just hold on.”

The girl had gasped again, wincing and screwing up her eyes as the light of her aura was dragged towards the Gate Room, this time reaching all the way to the steel shield plate over the window (and possibly beyond it) before she shuddered and the emerald glow vanished once more.

The _light_ vanished... and Dawn remained, exactly in the same spot.

This time it was Carter's eyebrows that went up, and Jack took another experimental step, paused, and then took another.

The girl stared at him, wide-eyed, and the shimmer blazed in her eyes, the aura flaring brightly, causing him to freeze for an instant, but then they were gone again, and she let out a little moan of fear, shrinking back as he finally made it to within arm's reach of her. 

Back pressed against the unyielding wall, she had nowhere to go as he slowly raised his hand, and even more slowly reached forward, ending by poking her lightly on the tip of her nose his index finger.

“Beeeeeep.” Looking down at her, he couldn't help a tiny victory smile.

“Gotcha.”

He took the video recorder from her unresisting hands, switching it off and setting off to the side.

Her former confidence nowhere in evidence now, Dawn looked over at Daniel plaintively.

“Please turn it off? _Please?_ I won't tell anyone about this place, I won't try and record anything else, I promise!”

Hammond looked at Carter.

“Captain?”

Sam glanced at the control boards, noting the levels displayed there, and then nodded.

“Well, sir; it might be that the larger and more powerful subspace distortion generated by the Gate interferes with whatever technology she uses to teleport herself.” Seeming to remember something, she stopped there and rephrased. “Whatever technology or _ability_ she uses to teleport herself.” Glancing pointedly in the direction of the Gate room, she continued. “So long as she's in reasonable proximity to it, and for _so long as the Gate remains active_ , she should be unable to transport herself by that means.”

The implications of that were clear to everyone, and Hammond nodded firmly, and looked to the SF standing nearby.

“Sergeant, take her down to medical.” He glanced at Carter. “Captain, go with them, and tell Doctor Fraiser to expedite her exam.” She nodded, and Daniel joined her and the guard as they moved to gently take hold of the girl. 

Daniel didn't look entirely happy with the situation, but at least they hadn't had to use drugs or a Zat... so far.

“All right, Dawn,” He began, reaching out to take her wrist. “We're going to go down to our medical facility, where we have a very good doctor who's going to run a few--”

“ _No!_ ”

The arm beneath his hand flared brilliant emerald, and reflexes instilled by too many dangerous worlds and trap-riddled tombs made him snatch back his hand before conscious thought could prevent it.

  
* * * * *  


Dawn was free, backing away as fast as she could from the three that had been about to drag her off to the operating room, to the place where they would start slicing her apart and replacing her flesh with things made from metal and circuits. She was free... and it didn't matter, because even before they removed any of her limbs, she was crippled.

She couldn't hold on to the power, it was like trying to drink from a fire hose, or juggle wrecking balls. There was too much of it, roaring through her, trying to drag her into the same bottomless vortex that had eaten those men and their weird, flat wagon full of boxes. Even though she couldn't see it, she could feel it there, sucking down energy in a rushing torrent, turning everything near it treacherous and terrifying.

Her aura was stretching out further and further towards the center of it all, and she felt sure that if it ever actually touched that circle of hungry light, she would vanish like a popped soap bubble.

She let go, releasing the power and falling back into herself, just plain old Dawn again.

And they were coming for her, hands outstretched.

  
* * * * *  


“Stop.”

Carter motioned to Daniel, and to Sergeant Drake, and looked at the cringing girl who had backed herself into the furthest darkest corner of the room. Dawn was shaking in utter terror, all but whimpering as she tried to watch everyone and everything with wide, white-rimmed eyes.

Samantha looked at the girl, and smiled reassuringly. 

“It's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”

Dawn stared back at her, face showing nothing but fear and distrust.

“I don't believe you,” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, tense and trembling. A glance at Daniel. “ _He_ promised me before. He said that nobody would hurt me, but they _did_.”

Daniel winced, and shifted uncomfortably. Sam watched him for a moment, then turned back to the girl.

“That wasn't his fault. Those other men aren't with us, and they're not _here_. All we're going to do is draw some blood, put you in an MRI machine, and do a few other tests.” 

The girl was having none of it, shaking her head back and forth as Sam spoke.

“No,” She said, louder now, more certain of what she was saying. “I know this; I _know_ what happens. You're going to drug me, and then cut me open and go looking for one of those _things_. And even if you don't find one, you'll keep on cutting, because I'm different, and I can do things you can't do, and you want to know _why_.” 

She stared at Sam, and her eyes looked years older than her actual age, like she'd seen horrors that even a SG team couldn't imagine.

“If I go with you, if I let you do things to me, I'll never _be_ me again. I'll be something else, with a chip in my head or something worse, something I don't even know about yet.”

Daniel spoke up from where he stood.

“Doctor Fraiser would never do that to you.”

That got a sharp, bitter laugh from the girl.

“Maggie Walsh was a super-famous doctor, and she talked my sister into trusting her. She acted a little weird, but nobody said anything because she was so smart, and because she said all the right things.” She looked at Jack, then Hammond.

“She worked for the army too. She made monsters for them, out of demons and machines.” Those beautiful, frightened eyes met Sam's. “And people. They tried to kill my sister. They experimented on my friend, messed with his brain.” She shivered again, trying to retreat even further back into her corner.

“If I'd really been there, she would have done it to me, too.”

Sam frowned for a second.

' _If I'd really been there?_ '

“Dawn, none of that is something we would ever--”

The girl flared with light again, eyes shut tight, fighting against something that no one else could perceive. A moment later it faded to nothing, only to blaze brightly again. She was whimpering now, and whispering something under her breath as she strained to break free.

Sam leaned a little closer, and tried to make out the words: 

_“I am Key magick, you can't take it away from me. I AM Key magick! I AM Key magick!”_

Daniel was looking at her helplessly, and Sam was afraid the girl was going to cause herself serious harm if she kept this up much longer.

“Dawn?” 

That was a new voice, and the girl paused, opening her eyes to see. Sam felt someone move to stand beside her, and the newcomer smiled gently.

“Hello. I'm Janet. It's very nice to meet you.”

  
* * * * *  


She couldn't do it.

No matter how hard she tried, Dawn couldn't fight her way past the rush of energy that the ring was pulling into itself. So when she heard the new voice, and opened her eyes, it was because she didn't have any other options left.

What surprised her the most, really, was how pretty the woman was. She was older, but very petite, with a cute face and very kind eyes.

Dawn glared at her anyway, because everyone here was her enemy and hated her, otherwise they would turn off the people-dissolving ring machine and let her leave.

“Leave me alone.”

The woman knelt down, bringing their eyes level, and Dawn realized that without noticing when it had happened, she'd sort of slid down the wall until she was huddled into the corner. 'Janet' was not quite close enough to touch, still acting very friendly and non-threatening.

Trying her best to channel death magic into her gaze, Dawn looked her up and down before speaking again.

“You're the doctor?”

Janet's smile kept on being very warm and pretty.

“That's right. And I want to help you, if you'll let me.”

Dawn sniffed, and looked for the jagged scalpel or huge syringe full of sleepy juice that just had be there, held out of sight until the victim wasn't looking.

“I told them, I know how this goes.”

The other woman nodded, her smile going away.

“I heard most of it.” She was being very serious now.

“Dawn.... I have a daughter, her name is Cassandra. She came through the Gate, like you did, not that long ago. She didn't trust anyone either, not really, because someone had hurt her too. Someone with very advanced medical knowledge had used it to turn Cassandra into a weapon, to try and kill all of us here.”

Looking at the woman as she spoke, Dawn could see the way Janet felt about that. She could see that the woman was just as furious about what had been done to the child as she was about the attempt on her own life.

“She survived what had been done to her, and none of us blamed her for it.” Janet looked at her intently. “I understand why you wouldn't trust me.” Her eyes flicked over Dawn's form, and studied her face, seeming to see right past the heavy makeup that was supposed to hide the swelling and the black eyes. “I can see that you've been hurt. But I swear to you, I will never, ever do anything to hurt you, or to make you any less _you_.”

Dawn looked at her, then up at where the bald man stood.

“What if he tells you to?” Her lips twisted, remembering all the soldiers around Maggie Walsh. “What if he _orders_ you to do it.”

Janet shook her head, eyes never wavering.

“I still wouldn't. That's what a real doctor _is_ , Dawn. We take care of people, we don't hurt them.”

She wanted to cry. It would solve absolutely nothing, and they would all think she was a weak little baby, but she really, really wanted to cry.

“I'm... really scared you're going to stick a needle in me any second now,” Dawn admitted. “And then laugh like that Nelson kid on the Simpsons while I'm keeling over.”

Janet's smile came back, and it was a really nice smile.

“I won't.” 

From behind her, where he'd been watching all this time, the older man, Jack, spoke up.

“And _I_ now officially like you. Slightly.”

Dawn looked at him, and then back to the woman before her. She was still so scared, because sooner or later very nearly every single person she'd ever known had turned on her somehow. 

And yet....

She swallowed, and braced herself for the worst, and then struggled to stand.

Janet moved to help her, pausing only to make sure Dawn saw that her hands were, in fact, empty and harmless. When she was fully upright she looked down at the other woman.

_Wow, she really_ is _tiny._

She was unsteady on her feet, and Janet was trying to lead her to where some other people were just bringing one of those rolling medical stretcher thingies up the stairs, but there was something important she had to ask.

“Um, if you don't mind one question....” 

The woman looked up at her.

“Of course. What is it?”

Dawn took a deep breath.

“How... tall are you?”

That got her a startled look from the bigger scientist lady in the uniform, but Janet just grinned, her eyes dancing with surprised amusement.

“I'm five two.”

Dawn felt her expression go crestfallen.

“Oh. My sister was five one.” She looked again at the smaller woman. “By the time I'm done shrinking, I'm not going to be able to reach _anything_.”

The doctor's look became inquisitive, but stayed just as amused and friendly.

“Dawn, I get the feeling you're going to be a very unusual patient.”

Staggering slightly as she was guided to the stretcher, Dawn could only shrug, and murmur: 

“You have no idea.”

  
* * * * *  


To be continued.... 


	9. 'Convergence Part III: The Comforting Dark'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All credit and respect to the original creators of these works, as well as the youtube video 'Really Hot Girl' by College Humor, from which I stole a joke for this chapter... because I just think it's incredibly funny (because dude, were I able, I'd do that too).
> 
> If it seems like I'm posting waaaaaaay more often these days, well, there's a reason.  
> Actually, there are twenty-one reasons, and their names are Charles Jackson, David Helmink, Janessa Ravenwood, Lilane Assous, Christopher, Visitant Sierra, Chris Ellis, Rickard, Paul Millsted, Michael Cronin, Jeffrey Clemons, Dale, Ethan Barton, Ken Hagler, Wil, Brandon Young, Andy Rowell, Maracel, Jessamyn Howe, Lauren Cash, and (starring as himself) LunasMeow.

Chapter Nine  
'Convergence Part III: The Comforting Dark'

 

Hammond, O'Neill, Daniel and Teal'c watched as the girl was carried out of the Control room on a stretcher. Carter and Fraiser went with her, and Jack gestured to Sergeant Drake, who nodded and followed after them.

Once that group was down the stairs and out of earshot, O'Neill turned and looked inquiringly at the general.

“What now? We've got her, but only as long as the Gate stays open and keeps jamming her frequencies.”

Seated at his console, Walter hit the button to raise the blast shield, and the Gate room came into view, showing the personnel down below as they carefully maneuvered the self-propelled transport flats up the ramp one by one. With their stacks of crates, drums and bundles of cargo lashed securely in place, the balloon-wheeled remotes crawled steadily along, vanishing through the event horizon at the rate of one every forty-five seconds. 

Glancing at the readouts on the control panel, Hammond shook his head.

“The maximum duration of an active Gate connection is thirty-eight minutes. Counting the time that's already elapsed, that leaves us just over thirty-three minutes to come up with something.”

Teal'c regarded them all levelly.

“Only the most powerful Goa'uld retain dangerous abilities when deprived of their technology. The removal of her devices will most likely render the girl powerless.”

Daniel seemed unconvinced.

“Only she says she's _not_ a Goa'uld. Granted, she might still be using some kind of technological artifact to teleport, but what if she's the same class of being as say, the Nox? As far as we could tell, their powers were part of them.”

Jack looked at Hammond.

“Whatever she is, it's a sure bet that Maybourne is on his way here right now to get her.”

The general nodded, his face grim.

“Whenever we go on alert, it's relayed upstairs, and from there to other commands on a need-to-know basis.” He indicated the decoy explosive sitting nearby. “The moment we knew the girl was here, Maybourne and his team would have been notified.”

O'Neill looked out at the Gate, then down at his watch. The ancient device would shut down in thirty-two minutes, but Dawn might have even less time than that remaining to her.

  
* * * * *  


She'd lost.

Even though she'd tried to be smart, and tried to be sneaky, and, god help her, she'd even tried to be _tough_... in the end it hadn't mattered. The other side had been better, and stronger, and smarter, and now they had her. They'd even managed to take away the one clear advantage she had over them; her ability to shift herself from place to place.

So she was caught, and powerless, and all she could do now was wait and see if they would keep their word this time, doing their tests but stopping short of hurting or killing her. 

In a very strange way it was actually sort of a relief, to have all the hard choices taken away. It felt like she was back in Sunnydale again; captured by someone evil and waiting for someone good (or at least _less_ evil) to come and save her. Now that she'd lost, she could finally stop fighting, stop struggling, and just wait to see what happened. 

Although, given how all the pills she'd taken were making things seem a little unreal, and fuzzy around the edges, she couldn't help thinking that maybe there might be just a _little_ magic in this world. That maybe, if she hoped and wished really, really hard, one of her protectors might somehow, impossibly find her, and save her.

After all, they always had before... well, mostly.

“Spike,” She whispered, watching the drab grey concrete ceilings flow past overhead as her wheeled stretcher-thingy was pushed along. “Spike, I don't know if they'll put a chip in my head or do something even worse, but I'm scared. Hurry up and find me, please.”

Nothing. He didn't duck out of a side tunnel and start punching soldiers, or even walk past in a stolen uniform with a wink to let her know he was working on their escape. He couldn't hear her at all, not from wherever Willow had banished him. For all she knew he might even be dead.

“Faith?” She ventured instead, feeling the same wrenching loss and pain as she did every time she thought about the girl. “Faith, I'm _sorry_. I didn't mean to cry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Please, _please_ come and get me, and I swear I'll never cry again.”

There was no answer. _Obviously_ there was no answer. When Faith had abandoned her, she'd made it very clear that she would not respond to any attempt at contacting her again. And Dawn had tested that, trying over and over, spending most of the money she stole to hire people to search, or pay contacts to pass along desperate, pleading messages.

There was never any response, and investigators who were too persistent tended to vanish without a trace.

“Dawn?” 

She blinked, and the image of those dark bronze eyes and knowing, hungry smile faded, leaving her staring up at the face of the doctor lady, the nice-seeming one.

The woman looked worried, hurrying along beside Dawn and peering down into her face as they bumped regularly over the shallow slots in the floor where the metal slabs sat when they slid down. 

“Dawn, can you hear me?”

Dawn didn't answer, she was too busy being depressed, and too distracted by the bumping, and the way the blurry pipes and conduits on the ceiling seemed to stream through her field of view like roads or rivers seen from an airplane.

Then her rolling stretcher-bed passed through a wide doorway, and she caught glimpses of hospital-type things.

Now she would find out, one way or the other: either they'd be nice to her, or they'd start experimenting.

Or, just maybe, Faith _would_ suddenly appear, kicking her way through the wall and carrying Dawn off in her arms. Stranger things _had_ happened, after all. 

Strange... like the way no one but her seemed aware of how the room they were in was sloooooooowly tilting up on its side, more and more every second. It was a _very_ good thing that everyone's shoes were made of velcro, or else they'd be sliding into a pile against the far wall in a horribly embarrassing way.

  
* * * * *  


Samantha stayed with the little procession as they hurried through the complex. Two airmen maneuvered the gurney through the corridors, with Janet alongside them, her shorter legs forcing her into a trot to keep pace. Behind Sam, three SF's followed along, keeping a close eye on the semi-conscious girl. As they approached the medical section, Dawn seemed to be mumbling something, too low to make out. A worried looking Janet leaned close, and spoke to her, but there was no reply.

As they entered medical, Sam stepped aside, watching as the girl was shifted with gentle haste to a treatment bed. The SF sergeant positioned herself and her subordinates at the edges of things, giving the medics enough room to work while staying close enough to see everything that was happening. Janet's people moved to start removing the girl's clothing and personal items; procedure for dealing with potentially dangerous 'visitors' was clear.

Samantha waited until they'd removed the leather jacket and boots (and if she'd been the type to care about such things at all she would have felt an absurdly inappropriate pang of jealousy, because those were _gorgeous_ boots) before stepping forward to personally begin separating Dawn from the many pieces of jewelry she wore. An airman wheeled over one of the rugged, lead-lined cases that were present for exactly this circumstance, and Sam carefully slipped a bracelet off of a wrist and deposited it in the box. While it was entirely possible that the onyx and gold trinket was just something that had been stolen here on Earth, the possibility that it was actually a piece of alien technology could not be dismissed. Removing another bracelet, and another, and then starting on the rings, she glanced at the girl's closed eyes and then up at Janet.

“We have just over thirty minutes, and we need to find out as much about her as we can.”

Doctor Fraiser nodded, and addressed her subordinates even as she used a damp cloth to carefully wipe Dawn's face.

“Draw blood for the full series: toxicology, dna typing, allergen antibodies, viral and bacterial cultures--” She looked up at Sam, her expression one of grim worry. “It's a little late for a quarantine if she's contagious; if she can move to anywhere in an instant then half the people on the planet could have already been exposed.”

Carter could only shake her head helplessly as she continued to remove rings from the girl's fingers.

“Most of the time it's the visitor who's in danger from our diseases. She seems healthy enough, and we haven't had any reports of unusual sicknesses yet, so hopefully....”

She shifted position a little to allow one of the critical-care nurses to sterilize the skin inside Dawn's elbow, deftly insert a needle, and begin filling vial after vial with blood.

Janet, having successfully cleaned away the layers of heavy makeup from the girl's face, made a little sound of concern.

“She's been beaten, Sam.” The bruising around Dawn's eyes was startling against her extremely pale skin, and seen up close like this there was visible swelling along her cheek, jaw, and lips as well.

Gently prying open her eyelids, Janet shone her penlight briefly in one eye, then the other.

“She's concussed, not too severely, I think....” A pause as she checked the progress of her other two assistants, who were attaching various sensors. “Blood pressure is low, heart rate and breathing suppressed.” The doctor glanced over at the female SF standing watch. “Sergeant, did your people do this?”

Sergeant Drake shook her head firmly.

“No ma'am; we never managed to lay a hand on her, and I'm fairly sure none of our weapons scored, either.”

With one wrist and hand fully cleared of jewelry (and if these _were_ all Goa'uld-style weapons then the girl was carrying enough ordinance to level most of Denver), Carter closed and locked the shielded case, handed it to an attentively-waiting SF, and moved around to the other side of the bed to start the process again with a fresh, empty case.

“We think it was the NID,” She told Fraiser. “They have capture teams operating all over the state looking for her, and they're not known for their restraint.”

One of the medical technicians had already hurried off to start testing the blood, and now the other two worked together to cut away the girl's clothes, starting with her top. As their scissors made quick work of the cloth, more pale skin--and more bruises, scrapes, and small cuts--were revealed.

Janet touched her lightly; the ribs there weren't _quite_ showing, but even so--

“She's underweight. Not dangerously, but she definitely needs to put on at least--”

“--That's just what the jealous girls say,” Dawn said, very softly, her eyes flickering open. “--When you steal their boyfriends: 'Oh, she's so _skinny_ , she looks like a _boy_ ', or ' _real_ women have curves', or 'only _dogs_ go after _bones_ '.” She stopped, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then blinked owlishly up at them. “Um. Sorry, I just get that a lot.”

Sam shared an incredulous look with Janet--this was _not_ the sort of conversation they usually had with the aliens or off-world humans they encountered. 

While the doctor draped a towel across the girl's breasts for modesty's sake, Sam stole a sidelong look at the clock mounted on the far wall. Time was limited, so she decided to make the most of what might be her only opportunity to ask questions.

“Dawn, I'm Samantha Carter, do you remember me?”

The girl nodded, hesitantly.

“At... the hotel. You and the older guy were there.”

“That's right.” Sam smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “I wanted to talk to you then, but we didn’t have the chance. Can you tell me something about yourself now? Like where you come from?”

Dawn's eyes became wary, and more than a little uncertain.

“You mean at the beginning? I'm... not sure, exactly. I can't really remember it, except in nightmares, sometimes.”

Somewhat taken aback, Sam tried something simpler.

“Okay, can you tell me where you were born? What star system?”

The girl looked away.

“I wasn't.”

Carter's brows lowered as she tried to parse that.

“You weren't what? Born?”

Dawn just shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the question, and an odd look stole across her face.

“My brain feels fizzy. And fuzzy. And... floaty. Is the room not really upside down right now? Velcro can't be _that_ good.” Then she looked down to where Sam was working the rings off her right hand, one by one.

“Wait, am I dreaming this, or are you actually mugging me?”

Samantha shook her head.

“We have to check to see if these are dangerous. Some of the beings we've encountered can build weapons and technology into harmless-looking things that are very small, so we--”

“ _OwwwwwOWW!_ ”

Dawn's yelp caught her by surprise, and Sam looked over to see that Janet had just pried up a large, square, fluid-stained band-aid from where it had been stuck, low on the girl's side. Reflexively placing a soothing hand on Dawn's forehead, Fraiser finished pulling the bandage away, only to scowl, thin-lipped, at the wound that was revealed.

“ _This_ is how the NID operates?” There was a raw and oozing hole the size of a quarter burned deep into the soft skin, surrounded by a larger area of darkly-mottled bruising. She looked at Dawn. “Is this why you took so many painkillers that you're barely conscious?”

The girl glanced down at the exposed wound, then quickly away, looking a little ill at the sight.

“It hurts a _lot_ ,” She admitted. “Or it did. Right now it's fine, except when people are poking it.” Sam watched as Janet carefully removed a second bandage from Dawn's shoulder, where another of the hideous wounds was revealed.

Once again the two women shared a glance, and that look conveyed an unspoken thought: _No wonder she's so convinced we're going to hurt her, when people dressed in uniforms just like ours did this._

Dawn's eyes had gone vague and were wandering along with her attention; not surprising considering how large a dose of prescription medication it would take to dull the pain from those deep burns. The trauma nurses, one male and one female, were now cutting away the girl's jeans--even though she was awake for the moment, they were so tight that removing them in the usual fashion would entail a great deal of struggle and contortion. Dawn's eyes refocused, and she looked down at what they were doing, her expression mournful.

“You guys hate my clothes _so_ much. I know they're not camo, and we're all supposed to follow the camo dress code here, but come on....”

Her thong-style underthings they left in place, and Samantha resumed her confiscation of the girl's jewelry, including a dangling, gem-studded belly piercing, the workings of which took her an embarrassing number of seconds to decipher before she was able to undo the catch and remove it.

Janet had finished her examination of the girl's wounds, and after checking the various readings she gave Dawn the same stern look that every SG team member had had to endure, usually after incurring a wound through extreme stupidity or carelessness.

“I know you feel strange right now, but your vital signs seem stable. Whatever you took for the pain, I'm thinking you took two or three times as much as you should have?”

The girl winced and looked away, as uncomfortable under that relentless gaze as anyone else (though O'Neill, being O'Neill, had at least partial immunity).

“Well, pain _hurts_ ,” Dawn told her, with more than a hint of a little girl's whine in her voice. 

That answer got a faintly surprised smile out of the doctor.

“That it does. It's amazing how often these big, strong military types try to pretend it doesn't.”

Dawn shook her head.

“I've known people who were super tough, but that's not me. At _all_.” 

She proved that was the case a moment later, whimpering and squirming as Janet carefully probed her ribs. The doctor nodded to herself, and in a classic 'distract the patient from the painful thing I just did to them' maneuver, reached down to touch the long, long ponytail that lay on the bed beside the girl.

“I like you hair.”

It worked flawlessly; Dawn nodded, taking her hair in both hands and stroking it lovingly.

“Thanks, it's completely awesome, I know.”

Samantha had been busy getting the last of the jewelry off of the girl, finishing off with her earrings; several tiny hoops in each ear. Putting those into the secure case, she stopped, watched the girl's hands for a moment and then reached out and carefully pulled the ponytail away. 

Dawn gaped at her as she raised the thick, silken length of hair and removed the elastic tie that held it with meticulous care. Dropping it into the case along with the rest of the items, she lay the girl's now loose hair back down across her body, where Dawn's hands automatically moved to clutch it protectively against her.

She looked up at Carter in disbelief.

“Seriously? You're worried my _scrunchie_ can shoot lasers?”

Janet had to glance away to try and hide a small grin, and one of the nurses coughed to cover a laugh. Feeling a tiny bit defensive, Sam gave the nurse a hard look, then turned back to Dawn.

“We can't afford to take any chances, especially with someone who was just threatening to blow us all up a few minutes ago.”

The girl lowered her eyes in embarrassment. 

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Doctor Fraiser, who had been examining the many minor wounds along her arms, legs and hip with such gentleness that Dawn had scarcely seemed to notice, now gave quiet instructions to her people before looking down at the girl.

“All right. As bad as some of these injuries are, there's nothing life-threatening, and I think Sam is finished now too. We're going to run a full-body CT scan. It won't hurt a bit, and it will make our superiors much happier once we can see for certain that you're the only one inside your head, all right?”

Dawn gave a tiny shrug.

“Well, I _would_ say 'no, it's not all right', except--” 

Her eyes shone brightly, eerily green, and an aura of exquisitely-pure emerald light flared into being, surrounding her entire body... and instantly began to stretch and smear outwards along a ruler-straight line that was aimed directly at the Gate room, nearly five hundred feet away.

Carter and Fraiser both jerked back in surprise, and there was a rustle of movement as Sergeant Drake took aim with her dart pistol... but within moments the aura and the glowing eyes had faded, leaving only a pale, battered, fragile-looking young girl lying there. With a despondent expression on her bruised face, Dawn shrugged again.

“--Except I can't do anything about it right now, so, okay, go ahead and do whatever, I guess.”

It took Janet a few seconds to regain her composure; that little display had been a clear reminder that no matter how harmless Dawn seemed, she was _not_ a normal human, and could not simply be assumed to be harmless.

For Samantha, it was proof that whatever the girl's power, it was not something as simple as a device that could be removed and studied. It was a part of her, and that didn't bode well for trying to contain her when the Gate inevitably shut down. And if they couldn't take her power away, then Hammond would have to make some tough decisions. Soon.

She sealed the second of the shielded cases and gave it to the SF; the jewelry would still have to be checked, just to be sure. In the meantime, Janet had regained her usual air of unflappable calm, and was helping Dawn to sit up so that she could slip into a very standard and mundane hospital gown. Sam halfway expected the running stream of complaints, sarcasm, and half-hearted whining to pick up where they'd left off, but the girl's brief flare of power seemed to have drained her of energy. She was nearly asleep on her feet as the two nurses half-led, half-carried her down the short passage to the medical center's very well-equipped radiology section.

Given the SGC's specific needs, they had been provided with the latest (and _fastest_ ) scanning technology available. As Dawn was positioned in the machine, Sam joined Janet behind the radiation shield.

The diminutive doctor looked up at her, visibly worried.

“It would have been better if her scrunchie had been full of teleport circuitry, wouldn't it?”

Sam nodded.

“Yeah.” The nurses cleared the room, leaving a now-sleeping Dawn lying on the scan tray, posed like a more damaged version of Snow White, ready to be placed within her glass coffin. “The NID won't care if she's really a threat or if she's just as scared and confused as she seems.” She looked through the thick glass at the girl, whose many injuries were clearly visible despite the gown draped over her. “And if she _is_ what she seems, then she's not any kind of fighter. I hate to even think of what Maybourne's men did to her, to cause all that.”

Janet frowned thoughtfully, waiting as the machine went through its startup cycle.

“From the looks of it, she was attacked earlier today, probably five or six hours ago.” The machine signaled that it was ready, and Fraiser started the scan program. “Maybe she'll tell us about it when she wakes up.”

Samantha checked her watch, and gave the other woman an uneasy look.

“Janet, one way or the other, I don't think she's going to be here long enough for that.”

A few yards away, the machine began its work, thrumming loudly as the unconscious girl slept on, unaware of it all.

  
* * * * *  


Boulder, Colorado  
 _Tryst_  
Five Hours and Twenty-Two Minutes Ago:

Dawn had been in the club for a while now, and for reasons she didn't entirely understand, it wasn't... great.

Sure, she _should_ have been having a fantastic time. Being on a dance floor was always fun; losing herself in the music, delighting in the sensuality and grace of her body--when Faith had taught her to dance she'd made sure Dawn understood that dancing was entirely for her own pleasure, and anyone else's enjoyment of it came in a distant second. Not that others weren't enjoying it tonight; she spent most of her time dancing with her eyes closed, but when she opened them there were always lots of people looking her way, watching her with avid, lust-filled eyes. 

She had to stop not long after, though; even though she was enjoying the slow, dreamy variant of techno that spilled from the club's sound system, some of her admirers were dancing a little too close, and their hands were becoming a little too bold. Most nights that kind of aggressive flirting was part of the fun, but tonight she just wasn't feeling it.

She spent the next half-hour drifting from place to place within the surprisingly large club, sipping at the drinks eager (and mostly _very_ handsome) men handed her, smiling prettily and laughing softly in response to the overtures or funny anecdotes she heard, without ever letting herself get drawn too deeply into any one conversation or encounter before moving on.

It was odd. She'd thought she wanted to be the center of attention tonight, and she still _could_ be that at any time; all she had to do was try, and any one of the little groupings of people would rearrange itself and focus entirely on her. Even now, when she was actively trying to avoid attention, interested gazes followed her every move, and even though she stayed on the edges of things, every three or four minutes someone would approach her with a line about how beautiful she was, or how she should leave with them to go for a drive in their very expensive sportscar, or go with them to have drinks in their even more expensive apartment.

One guy strolled up out of nowhere and with an absolutely serious expression and tone offered to buy her her very own _island_. She'd laughed a for-real, genuine laugh at that one, but declined his offer as politely as possible. He took it well, wandering off, leaving her to continue her drifting, still wondering what was wrong, and why she wasn't having even a remotely good time. 

There certainly wasn't anything wrong with the club itself; far from it. _Tryst_ had turned out to be a wonderful surprise, partly (maybe even mostly) because of one shocking detail: it was a club for _vampires._

 _Okay, maybe not really,_ Dawn thought with some amusement. _As far as I can tell, this world really_ doesn't _have monsters, or demons, or magic that can do anything at all, but wow does this club want vampires!_

Not that she was complaining about the look of the place. Ever since she'd started going out to the clubs she could reach, she'd been bombarded with the rustic, rough-hewn look. Sometimes it seemed like every single club in this world (or, to be fair, every club in central Colorado) thought it was a ski lodge, even when it was fifty miles from the nearest slope--she'd seen enough stuffed animal heads, huge fireplaces, and unfinished wooden furniture to last a lifetime, and had just about decided that there was some kind of government-issued guideline in effect that forced every club to use slight variations on the same general design. 

_Tryst_ , however, was an entirely different kind of place. The lighting was subdued; in places it was so dim that moving around was almost more a matter of guesswork and familiarity than sight, and even the brighter areas were lit with very soft washes of silver or scarlet that were there as much for atmosphere as they were for actual illumination. The walls were black, the tables and chairs were black, the ceiling and floor were black. Basically the only things that stood out were the people, and the large, stylized artworks on the walls--monochrome silhouettes of hyper-feminine women and blocky, masculine men, in various poses--dancing, embracing, kissing. 

The club was very large, though it was hard to be sure exactly _how_ large, since it was divided into two big spaces, and an indeterminate number of smaller ones (which formed an almost maze-like series of interconnected rooms, each with a very large, nearly circular booth surrounding a low table, perfect for lounging and secretive seductions).

The canned music playing loudly over the sound system was moody and sensual, and the scattering of people on the dance floor moved dreamily to the beat.

Seriously, she’d seen actual vampire clubs back in her dimension that were much less vampirey. 

It was sort of bizarre, and more than a little absurd; the ambiance of the place was majorly weird, and yet it totally worked. Dawn felt more comfortable here than she had in any of the other nightspots she'd visited in this world. Everyone was dressed in amazing, expensive clothes, mostly in somber colors but not always; some of the women were all in black, while others wore beautiful dresses in rich, jewel colors that made her glad she'd gone all-out herself, in a designer outfit that she'd legitimately bought and had fitted to her in a trendy shop in Aspen a few days earlier.

The people were very pretty, too, as she'd noted earlier; the crowd seemed to skew towards people in their mid to late twenties. Everyone seemed to have enough time and money to take excellent care of themselves, and enough vanity to obsess over their presentation just as much as she did herself. 

_And almost all of them are acting massively pretentious, which is exactly why it's so awesome_ , Dawn thought to herself, her lips quirking towards a faint smile. 

_They're pretending to be vampires; not with fake fangs or glittery capes or whatever--that would just be silly. But oh, my, GOD look at how broody all the guys are, and how pouty and above-it-all all the girls are. Spike would laugh himself silly to see it, even if Angel would fit right in._

And then Dawn surprised herself by laughing out loud.

_Ha! I'm one to talk; look at what I'm doing right now!_

Because of course she'd spent the last twenty minutes lurking in the shadows at the edges of things, drifting along, all distant and quiet and brooding, just _exactly_ like a certain broody vamp had always done in the Bronze, back in the early days.

And, of course, thinking of the odd little club back in Sunnydale brought all of that rushing back in an instant, and her bright smile of a moment earlier faded and was gone.

Because even though it had gone badly there at the end, she missed the gang back in Sunnydale. 

She missed Spike terribly; his snark and his weird brand of wisdom and knowing little smirks.

She missed Faith, so much so that even all these months later the ache of it could still sneak up on her and leave her feeling empty and unloved and alone, unable to sleep for nights at a time.

And she missed Buffy, with a endless, draining misery that was almost more than she could bear. 

Standing there, alone in the shadows, she found herself in very real danger of breaking down and crying, and that sort of thing was _not_ what sexy vampire wannabees did when they were out at their ridiculous and wonderful vampire club.

Dawn took a minute to compose herself, then moved along the wall, through a large archway, and across the dim, luxuriously-appointed space. Beautiful people stood in small groups, drinking drinks and looking mournful and superior, and she felt her own expression settle into the mask of haughty and disdainful perfection that she'd practiced for use in places very much like this one. Her slow, languid, swaying passage through the scattered crowd drew more than a few approving and appraising looks, but she ignored them completely (which was, after all, precisely the proper behavior for a vampire princess), looking neither left nor right until she reached her destination.

The bar was black, sort of inevitably; a huge, ornate monstrosity that would have been right at home in some ancient, gothic temple. There were two bartenders taking care of things, making drinks with casual skill, and both of them also looked like GQ cover models. Falling into a graceful pose similar to the other attractive women nearby, Dawn held her gaze steadily on one of the men behind the bar until he felt her there and turned.

  
* * * * *  


Dylan finished making the gin gimlets, presented them to the two guys wearing identical Armani suits and tiny, mirror-lensed glasses, and turned to take the order of the next person waiting; yet another of the slinky, sexy females who were so common in this place that they basically turned into wallpaper, nearly invisible after a while, even if all of them were attractive and a scattered few were--

Stunning.

He stopped, and for two or three seconds, in spite of his usually unshakably cool demeanor, he stared.

Huge, incredible eyes that shone like blue-green gems, emphasized by dark wells of eyeshadow and framed by long, long lashes.

Dark hair that fell thick and heavy and full to mid-thigh. Pale skin, pouting lips, and soft, rounded shoulders; the girl was absolutely exquisite, but even with everything else there competing for his attention, he kept coming back to those incredible, luminous _eyes_.

She saw his reaction, and one corner of her mouth quirked up slightly, the amazing eyes gleaming with obvious pride and satisfaction at the effect she was having on him. Regaining his composure with difficulty, he cleared his throat.

“What’s your pleasure?” He asked, with what he hoped was a neutral half-smile of his own.

“Smirnoff Ice; raspberry," She told him, her voice almost too soft to hear over the house music. "Please.”

He nodded and turned to the glass-fronted cooler behind the bar, though her small courtesy at the end almost made him do a double-take. In his considerable experience, it was rare for someone to be that gorgeous without also being, to one degree or another, a massively condescending bitch. On the other hand, this one looked to be barely twenty-one, if that, so maybe it hadn't yet had time to grow to noticible levels.

Opening the small bottle of fruity, overly-sweet drink, he began pouring it into one of the club's elegant crystal tumblers. Noting from the corner of his eye that the girl had half-turned and was gazing out across the room, he took the opportunity to give her a longer look.

His first impression was confirmed; she was beautiful. Small chested, which was a shame, but that was a flaw he could overlook, given everything else, and he firmly approved of her outfit.

The top showed off her shoulders, but otherwise covered everything, with long, loose sleeves to her wrists and not even an inch of midriff showing... unless you took into account the fact that it was almost completely sheer. Even here, in one of the dimmer sections of the club, her pale arms, modest cleavage, narrow waist, and smooth, flat stomach were fully visible through the wispy material, and only the elegant black lace of her lingerie-style bra underneath made the outfit decent enough to wear in public.

Her pants were more of the same; tight along hip, ass and upper thigh, then loose and flowing and long enough to brush the floor even with the extra inches her heels gave her, everything gauzy and nearly transparent, except for the black lace thong underneath.

The entire thing was exquisitely made, with subtle, intricate patterns in the material that served to make it look a tiny bit more substantial than it actually was; a gossamer veil of silky black that beautifully complimented her perfect, ghost-pale skin, dark and lavish eyeshadow, and richly-red lipstick. 

She was dripping with jewelry too; a dozen rings per hand, softly chiming bracelets, dangly earrings and a delicate belly chain, a gorgeous choker of some very dark metal set with small emeralds, and a string of silver and irregular pearls wrapped three times around one slim ankle. 

In a room full of attractive women trying very hard to look like cold, undead statues, this girl made Dylan think of a lovely, sleekly evil genie--a supernatural beauty trapped for ages in some ancient, treasure-filled cavern, admiring herself in golden mirrors, playing among leaning towers of shimmering coins stacked into sprawling make-believe castles, and draping herself with pounds and pounds of priceless jewelry, lost in her innocent, child-like greed as a hundred centuries passed and the world outside grew ever more distant from the one she'd known. And now she'd escaped from that cave, and come here, tonight, lovely and unsure but eager to explore, looking for someone who could be her guide, companion, and protector in this confusing, modern-day city.

Dylan chuckled quietly, throwing off the ridiculous daydream. It was an overblown, sappy, and overly-romantic image he'd conjured up, but that was the sort of person he was; sappy and overly-romantic. 

The girl couldn't have heard his quiet, self-mocking laugh, but she must have felt his eyes on her; she turned her head and caught him staring, then glanced away for a second, almost shyly, before looking back at him and arching one delicate brow inquiringly.

It was a very normal, human thing to do, and Dylan dismissed his little fantasy of a moment before with an internal grin. This wasn't a genie, or a supernatural being lost in an unfamiliar world, or anything other than another half-drunk, entirely normal young woman on the prowl in a nightclub.

That said, she was still an incredibly _hot_ normal young woman, and he was seriously considering breaking rule #3 of the employee handbook by asking her for her number. 

While most of his brain was busy weighing exactly how much he needed this particular job versus how much he needed to know if that alabaster skin was really as soft and smooth as it looked, the remainng portion managed to successfully set the drink glass in front of the girl, who smiled at him, raised it to her lips without breaking eye contact, and--

“You are _really_ hot!”

Both Dylan and the girl froze for a beat, then slowly looked to where a tallish, slightly disheveled man had slid in to stand very close to her. Smiling broadly, he ran one hand back through his messy hair, very obviously 'turning on the charm'... or so he thought.

"I'm Jasper," He told her, his voice significantly lower in pitch than it had been a few moments earlier. "And you are the most magnificent creature I have seen--" He paused there for dramatic effect, then continued. "--In a _thousand years_."

He eyed her expectantly, apparently waiting for her to swoon at the compliment. Dylan, watching from across the width of the bar, saw the subtle roll of her eyes as she turned away from the man, even if 'Jasper' did not.

"Thank you," She murmured, her voice very soft, like before. "That's a lovely compliment." She took a studied sip of her drink, gazing steadily past Dylan's shoulder. Jasper frowned at the cool reception, and gathered himself for another attempt.

"I'm trying to decide which clan would fit you best." He made a show of studying her profile closely. "Ventrue? You're classy enough to be one of those. Or maybe Toreador?" He grinned again, though it came off as more of a drunken leer. "They're all about looks, and you've got those by bucketful." The girl didn't answer, she just took another careful sip of her drink, still staring past Dylan. 

Jasper, growing a irritated at this treatment, reached out and tugged a few times at a lock of her long, long hair.

"If you don't tell me which clan, I'm going to start wondering if you're a Nosferatu or something." He yanked a little harder, enough to drag her head slightly down and to the side with the tug. "C'mon, pretty thing, tell me what's inside that delicious outside."

She winced a little at the hair pulling, but resolutely kept her stare forward. She said something in reply to the man's words, too quiet for Dylan to hear, though reading her lips gave him the impression that her answer had been ' _A hundred-billion-year-old ball of green energy?_ '.

Which was obviously not what she'd said, since that made zero sense. Besides, there were more important things to worry about at that moment.

Belatedly, because he'd been caught up in watching the girl's reactions to the situation, Dylan reached out and took hold of Jasper's wrist.

"Hey man; ease up there, and let her go."

The other man looked at him, and after a moment he complied; he wasn't really looking for trouble, he was just too drunk to respect the proper bounderies.

"Sorry," Jasper said to him, then, a few seconds later, he repeated it to the girl. "Sorry, really, I, ah...." Dylan let go of his wrist, and the man ran his hand back through his hair again. "I just... you're really hot, and I really wanted to get together with a Toreador tonight, you know?" He looked down at the bar, crestfallen. "Or even a Giovanni would be okay, I guess, if they looked like _that_."

For her part, the young woman had mostly relaxed, with the tension of the encounter apparently defused. After a quick glance at Jasper, who was still mumbling down at the dark wood of the bar, she leaned towards Dylan and whispered: 

"I don't know what _any_ of those words _mean_."

He grinned back at her.

"It doesn't really matter, unless you come here a lot, in which case you probably _should_ read up on it. It's a game a lot of people here like to play."

She smiled faintly back at him, setting her empty glass aside and reaching for the tiny designer purse she carried. The bartender raised one hand and shook his head.

"It's on the house; sorry, I should have done something sooner, or called a bouncer."

She peeked sideways at Jasper, then made a little gesture of dismissal with one pale hand.

"It's fine, and thank you." She hesitated then, and glanced around the bar area before looking back at him with what absolutely _had_ to be the loveliest little pout he'd ever seen.

"I can't smoke in here, can I?"

He shook his head.

"Afraid not, state law. But you can go up to the roof garden if you want, the stairs are right through there." He pointed at the appropriate archway, and she gave him her brightest smile yet.

"Thanks again." She started to turn away, then hesitated, and gave him a very particular sort of look over her shoulder. "Tell me your name," She said softly, half-lowering her lashes in a way that she surely knew showed off those blue-green gemstone eyes of hers to maximum effect.

"Dylan," He said, so promptly that he very nearly spoke over top of her. She nodded, fractionally, and repeated it back to him.

"Dylan. I'll remember."

He watched her move off towards the stairs, her tight, sheer outfit and very high heels making the sway of her hips a legitimately mesmerizing sight. Jasper, who he'd nearly forgotten, had also turned to watch, and after a few seconds he made as if to start after her.

"No," Dylan told him, pitching his voice to carry over the music. When the other looked back, the bartender gestured towards the front of the club, where two formidable bouncers in very nice suits waited discretely in shadowy nooks, ready for the rare instances of trouble. 

Heaving a dramatic, forlorn sigh, Jasper obediently shuffled away towards the dance area instead, leaving Dylan a moment to happily consider possible future encounters with the mysterious girl.

He felt a presence at his shoulder, and glanced over to see his fellow bartender, Ian, standing there. Dylan had been peripherally aware that the other man had been busy with a large order for a group of people for the last several minutes, while the minor drama of the girl's arrival and subsequent encounter with her unwelcome admirer had played out. Now, though, Ian too was staring after the girl as she vanished through the darkened archway across from the bar.

"Sexy girl," The other man said, an odd look on his face. 

"Very," Dylan agreed, then gave a little groan as he realized something.

"I didn't get her name," He said out loud, wanting to smack himself for not having asked for it when he gave his own. 

At which point Ian amazed him by saying: 

"Dawn." His eyes shifted to meet the other man's stare. "I think her name is Dawn."

Dylan blinked, lips moving as he whispered the word; it seemed to fit her, but still, the question was--

"And you know that _how?_ "

The other man shrugged carelessly, throwing a quick look across the way to see if the girl would reappear, but the archway remained empty. 

"I've seen her in here before, I guess." He glanced down at his wristwatch. "Hey, listen, do you mind if I take my break?"

Dylan frowned, then shrugged.

"You just got here twenty minutes ago, man, but whatever."

"Thanks; be back in ten."

Ian headed off towards the unmarked door that led to the employee lockers and break area, and Dylan greeted a trio of attractive people in very expensive, obsessively dark clothing. He took their orders with his usual efficiency, but he knew without a doubt that he would be spending the rest of his shift thinking about that half innocent, half-wicked smile, and those gorgeous, gemstone eyes.

  
\- - - - -  


The archway led to a low, wide corridor that ran off to her left, and Dawn moved through dimness relieved only intermitantly by subtle washes of silver or crimson light.

A man and woman passed her going the other way, their arms linked, with secret smiles on their lips and eyes only for each other. He was older, with white showing in his close-cropped blonde hair, and she was much younger, in her early twenties, but both were quite attractive, very stylishly dressed, and they seemed to be completely infatuated with each other.

Dawn sighed, and paused for a second to turn and watch as they went out into the main club.

_Good for them. Who cares if there's twenty or thirty years between them; god, that's nothing at all compared to Buffy and Angel, and Faith dated people in Europe who were way older than_ that _!_

Being around supernatural beings was a great way to move past silly prejudices about age, gender or skin color; she'd seen things that made little matters like those seem like nothing at all.

Shaking her head to dispel those random thoughts, Dawn continued down the corridor. She came to another arch on her left, which turned out to lead into the twisty maze section of interconnected little semi-private areas, each with their own circular, leather-covered booth. Just past that, an opening on her right turned out to be the stairs; a steep, somewhat forbidding ascent into dimness, which she assumed led to the roof garden that Dylan had told her about. Just past the stair entrance, however, she saw something reassuringly normal; a pair of doors with the universal symbols for male and female. That reminded her that she'd had four drinks in the last hour; enough to make her steps the teeniest bit unsteady... and also enough to leave her bladder uncomfortably full. 

She took a step towards the bathrooms, only to stop short when a group of women emerged from the maze archway, crossed the corridor in front of her, and trooped into the bathroom as a single unit. Frowning unhappily, Dawn counted six of them, and the glimpses she caught through the door as they went in showed a bathroom that was richly-decorated... and not especially large.

A moment later a well-dressed man exited the men's side, and walked across to the arch that led into the labyrinth, nodding and smiling appreciatively as he saw her standing there. She returned his smile, regally accepting his admiration as her due, and when he'd gone she stared at the ladies room door and sighed.

_I don't know anyone here, and I don't especially want to crowd into a little bathroom and stand around waiting for a stall_. She considered the problem, then grinned, shrugged, and turned away. _No big thing; I'm_ Me! _I never have to wait in lines!_

The corridor was a little busy; yet another pair of women went from arch to bathroom as she moved away. What she needed was somewhere out of....

The archway that led to the stairs was right there, and she peeked through it, then moved through, which immediately put her on the first step up. It was very dim there, and she hadn't seen anyone come through here in the last minute or so. 

Concentrating on the image of where she wanted to go was a little more difficult with the alcohol moving through her veins like a warm and fuzzy, slow-moving current, but the lake of power that surrounded her seemed able to recognize her intent so long as she could picture a very modest number of details about her destination. She felt the potential to suddenly be elsewhere abruptly solidify, and she performed the odd act of will that was halfway between pushing and wishing.

_FlickerSNAP._

She appeared in her brand new apartment; the sprawling third floor of Mrs. Hannon's hundred-year-old Victorian. Standing perfectly still, she listened carefully for any sign that the old lady was for some reason poking around in Dawn's rooms. She heard nothing, and so she moved to the bathroom, going tippy-toe to keep her heels from making too much noise on the hardwood floors, peeking into each room as she passed it to be sure she was alone. The locksmith would be there tomorrow, but until then, if her landlady wanted to be nosy, she might turn up at any time.

"Not that I think she'd do that," Dawn told herself as she went into the bathroom, flipped on the lights and went about her business. "She seems really nice, and this is place is soooo much better than a normal apartment, or trying to camp out in my hidey-hole under the ski lodge."

Feeling a hundred percent better now that she'd taken care of urgent matters (and feeling more than a little superior to those merely mortal girls who had no choice but to suffer through lines and bathroom crowding when out at a club), she checked her makeup in the mirror, ran her styling brush a few times through the heavy, silken-soft waves of her hair, smiled happily at her reflection, and went back out into the main room.

And then she hesitated, a little surprised to find herself unsure about whether or not she actually wanted to go back to the club.

On the one hand there was the thing where she'd felt restless and unsatisfied the entire time she was there (other than the few minutes spent dancing). If she wasn't going to hook up with a random stranger (or that very nice, very handsome bartender), was there really a reason to go back? Maybe it would be better to just kick off her shoes, lie on the couch, and doze until the faint spinny feeling in her head went away.

On the other hand....

"On the other hand," She told the empty room. "I _like_ that spinny feeling. And besides...."

She looked around again, at the large, dim space that was actually more brightly lit than the nightclub, and at the same time profoundly empty of human warmth and company, and deafeningly, _crushingly_ quiet and still.

Dawn imagined herself trying to sleep, and instead just lying there, twitching at every imagined sound as she imagined those military guys sneaking up on her again, with their dart guns and their electro-gadgets, dragging her off a secret base where there was a big shiny steel table waiting just for her. And once they had her on it, drugged and helpless, they'd start cutting her up, looking for one of those Ghoul things Daniel had told her about, peeling back layer after layer of her body and brain, never believing there wasn't one of those things inside her until there was nothing left that even looked like a girl.

She shivered, in her barely-there, sexy-wispy outfit, and shook her head at _that_ image.

"Nope, nope, no way; that isn't going to happen. They _can't_ catch me."

_FlickerSNAP_.

"Can't."

She was on the other side of her living room from where she'd been an instant before, next to the empty bookshelf.

_FlickerSNAP_.

"Can't."

She was in the kitchen, beside the quietly humming refridgerator.

_FlickerSNAP_.

Near an illuminated, heated pool, standing on a damp wooden deck, with the bright, looming bulk of the Denver Hyatt towering over her, and at least twenty tourists splashing and playing in the water before her. At least three of the ones in the water, and one _very_ surprised-looking teenaged boy caught sight of her there; either because they'd seen her appear or simply because they would have noticed _anyone_ with her looks and her outfit.

She gave the boy a deeply serious look, her brows lowered dramatically.

"Can't," She told him, her voice low and immensely solemn. Then she grinned and--

_FlickerSNAP_.

Standing in a chilly, scrupulously-clean aisle, in her favorite little grocery/bakery. It opened early and closed early, so it was deserted, as was usual when she came here at night for supplies. The smell of cookies and other treats hit her, and her stomach chose that moment to growl fiercely. Despite her better judgement she walked across to the far aisle, and peered down into the glass case there.

Cupcakes. Dozens and dozens of cupcakes, in every one of her favorite flavors. Her mouth watered, and her stomach jabbed at her again, very much aware that the only thing it had seen all day was a small bowl of fruit, three crackers, green tea, and glass after glass of water.

Dawn couldn't hold back a pathetic little whimper/sigh as she looked at the enticing treats, with their lemon icing and sugary sprinkles seeming to taunt her. She could just start grabbing them and gobbling them down right now if she wanted, binging on everything in sight until she was so full it hurt (and she _had_ done that before, more than a few times back at home, though so far just once in this world), except she knew quite well how that led to guilt and self-disgust and immediate corrective action, which then led to the ickyness of kneeling over a toilet bowl, holding back her hair and shuddering at the awful taste as it all came back up, and chewing antacid pills for the next hour so that her teeth wouldn't be ruined....

"No. Not this time," She told the little calorie-bombs with another sad sigh, but it was a victory of will over weakness as she turned resolutely away.

_FlickerSNAP_.

A quiet park, with the lights of Colorado Springs shining all around the few acres of carefully-maintained grass and trees. Taking in the lovely sight and shivering a little in the clear, cool air, she nodded to herself.

_Good for you, Dawnie. Girls who stuff themselves with cookies and cupcakes do not get to wear this kind of outfit, or have nice, super-studly bartenders drooling over them, or random guys offering to buy them islands._

She spread the fingers of one hand over her flat tummy, loving the fact that it _was_ flat, and loving that she looked so amazing in her clubbing clothes, but at the same time wincing at the continued rumbles and grumbles beneath her palm, and reflecting on the fact that girls who _did_ stuff themselves probably enjoyed all that food quite a lot, and got to live their days without being constantly hungry, even if that meant they couldn't fit into designer outfits. 

_No. Faith liked me slim. Faith loved my tiny waist. She didn't want someone chubby, and I needed her to want me._

She looked down at the ground, lost in thoughts and regrets that were most of a year old.

_I need someone to want me. If not Faith, then... I...._

Her long nails were digging into her palms, and it hurt. She blinked, sniffed, and forced herself to pull out of the incipient funk that was threatening suck her in and leave her moping and depressed for days.

"Ack! Serious thoughts bad! Party thoughts good!"

She shook her head so hard that her hair swished back and forth behind her, and grimaced at the city around her.

"I need more alcohol; that's more than enough calories for the rest of the night. And I need nicotine, desperately."

Dawn had noticed she'd been smoking more since she got to this new world; the stress of her situation here made her grasp at anything at all to help her relax. She briefly considered staying in the park for a while, only... it was a _park_. 

And it was _night_ , and....

There was a thing that Faith had loved to do to her, once the two of them had become lovers. She would bring Dawn to a large park, in a city or large town, at night, and she would tell Dawn to walk inside.

And of course she _would_ , because Faith was pretty much the perfect example of someone to whom you simply did not say the word 'no'.

So Dawn would walk, alone, into the monsters' hunting ground, consumed with terror, and that very fear would attract every vampire and demon in the place. By the time she reached the center, she would feel hungry eyes all around her, and hear things creeping closer, reaching for her with claws ready to tear and fangs ready to bite.

Then the screams would begin, and the shrieks and the howls, and it was the monsters who were afraid, if only briefly, as Faith materialized out of the darkness and danced her way through them. With her knife or a sword, or with just her hands and feet, the fallen Slayer could wreak indescribable destruction, and she did so with an unholy joy that both chilled Dawn to the bone... and excited her in ways nothing else could even begin to do. Afterwards, when the killing was done, Faith would come to Dawn and take her into her arms, and carry her off to make love, either very close by, just barely out of sight of the carnage, or, if the mood struck her, in some impossibly luxurious hotel or rented mansion. And after hours of sex, when Dawn had been turned into a exhausted and limp ragdoll, her body and mind overloaded by the endless, relentless, almost painfully-intense onslaught of sensation and bliss, Faith would hold her, and whisper to her, and for a time the entire universe would be perfect. 

Those nights, with the complete helplessness, utter terror and transcendant passion all blurred together, only cemented her need for Faith. As powerless as she was when she was alone, there was nothing, _nothing_ that left her feeling as safe, cherished, and complete as when Faith was with her, when Faith held her, when Faith loved her. 

_That_ was the hole she felt now, whenever she thought about the girl. The absence of that, the longing to feel that way again.

Dawn blinked, and shook her head, coming back to herself standing, alone, in a park, at night.

_Ugh. No, there's no way I can stay here. I've been in too many places that looked exactly like this, only this time there's no Faith here, ready to save me if the bad things jump out of the bushes._

As sure as she was that there weren't any supernatural things of any kind in this world (and she was now fairly sure), the fears learned in her own reality were just too deeply set. Once the sun was down, every moment alone in a place like this set her nerves on edge; if she wanted to relax, and didn't want to go sit in her empty apartment, then the club was her best option.

Gazing off at the lights of the city, she thought about the dark corridor, remembered the low arch and the steep staircase beyond, both of them nearly lost in the oh-so-fashionable gloom.

The image solidified, the power rushed through her, and she wished.

_FlickerSNAP-PAAPP!_

She appeared on the stairs with a sickening jolt, stumbling as some force _pushed_ her sideways, not violently, just utterly unstoppably, and she stumbled shoulder-first into a wall. In that same instant she was momentarily blinded, as the green shimmer in her eyes flared like a camera flash going off inside her eyeballs, leaving her blinking at afterimages of emerald suns that drifted across her vision--

"-- _What_ do you think you're _doing?!_ "

Still blinking furiously, Dawn braced herself where she'd fallen against the wall, still more or less upright despite the unexpected turbulence on arrival. Her vision slowly cleared, and she saw a woman who was likewise leaning against the wall opposite her, both of them just two steps up from the bottom of the stairs.

It was one of the icily-attractive vampire ladies who was glaring at her, even as she pulled herself up to stand straight. This one was a little on the plump side for a vampire vixen, though, and she was tugging awkwardly at her elegant dress, which had been twisted slightly askew.

_Wait, did I land on her when I popped in? Did I land halfway_ inside _her?! Eeeek that's disgusting!_

Dawn's hands were moving like they had minds of their own, frantically fluttering up and down her body, touching herself everywhere, checking to see if anything was missing, or had been scrambled, or turned inside out. Nothing _seemed_ out of place, and she certainly hadn't exploded, melted, or become the cuter half of a pair of siamese twins, which was definitely of the good, so hopefully her internal organs were all still in the right places too.

The woman was staring at her, which was probably understandable, given the flurry of desperate self-touching Dawn had been doing. She made herself stop, turning the hand motions into more of a normal, brushing-off sort of thing as she made sure her own outfit was undamaged and straight. 

"I'm _so_ sorry," Dawn began, extending one hand in a gesture of apology. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to--"

"You _pushed_ me!" The stare was accusing now, and the woman seemed completely uninterested in Dawn's attempted apology. "What, were you just lurking down here, waiting to jump out and attack the first person who came down the stairs?"

That... seemed like a pretty crazy thing for someone to be doing, and anyway, it had been more like a solid bump than any kind of _attack_. It was interesting, though, how the Sunnydale effect was a universal thing: the woman was trying to fit the impossible event of Dawn's sudden appearance out of nowhere into the framework of things she could understand.

"I'm really sorry," Dawn tried again, hoping she could calm the situation down. "This is my first time here, and there's barely _any_ lights in this club; I was just going upstairs and I _swear_ I didn't see you there--"

" _Lights?!_ " The woman cut in, the sarcastic snideness of her voice a perfect match for the expression on her face. "Did you get _dressed_ in a place without any lights, too?" She eyed the younger woman's outfit with distaste. "Why don't you try wearing some actual clothes, the next time you go out in public?"

Dawn stared, blinked once, and then smiled sweetly.

_Oh, so we're doing this? Fine, it's_ on _, grandma._

"Why don't you try driving past at least one McDonald's without hitting the drive-thru?" She replied, taking her own turn at giving the other woman's clothes an appraising look. "That outfit must have fit you great... ten years and twenty pounds ago."

The woman, who was probably around forty (which to Dawn's mind was positively ancient, basically on the verge of decaying into dust) gave her a death-glare, still tugging ineffectually at her top, where her impressive cleavage had shifted within the fabric that sought to contain it. To be fair, she wasn't _that_ heavy, and certainly not a crone, but it was obvious that she was fighting dual wars against advancing age and an expanding waistline... and losing both of them. 

"I don't pay attention to insults from _children_ ," She declared, with all the dignity she could muster. 

Dawn cocked her head slightly to one side, with an exaggeratedly polite look on her face.

"What? I couldn't hear you over the sound of all those creaking bones and popping stitches."

Even in the dimness, and underneath all the makeup, Dawn could see the woman's face starting to turn an interesting shade of reddish purple.

"You... You... anorexic little _bitch!_ "

Dawn _almost_ winced; that one struck a little too close to home. Still, her retort came quick and sure:

"Bloated, disgusting _cow!_ "

"Insolent _child!_ "

"Shriveled-up _hag!_ "

" _Jail-bait!_ "

" _Mummy!_ "

The woman tensed, hands flexing, and Dawn prepared to jump away if she attacked; despite the difference in age, her opponent was bigger and heavier, and besides, fighting was a job for heroes and Slayers, and she had no desire at all to get into a face-clawing, hair-pulling wrestling match with _anyone_. 

Luckily, they were interrupted just then by a pair of young women descending the stairs, their conversation warning Dawn and the furious lady, giving them both time to quiet their snarls and assume civilized expressions. 

Seeing no gain in staying around to see what the other did after the two women had passed, Dawn turned and started climbing the stairs, meeting the two and turning sideways to slip past them on the steep ascent, then hurrying on up as quickly as she could without _looking_ like she was running away.

Midway up she took a quick look behind her, but the woman had apparently had enough, and gone on down into the main club.

_Another minor adventure survived. Yay me!_ , Dawn thought triumphantly, although she was starting to pant slightly at what was by now the quite unusual exertion of climbing stairs. Another twenty-two steps passed by, and then she was at the top, stepping through yet another gloomy, gothic arch.

  
* * * * *  


It had taken Ian several minutes of searching through his locker, his messenger bag, and finally the pockets of the spare trousers he kept in his car in case of emergency, but he had _finally_ found it. Walking back inside through the employee entrance of the club, he checked the tiny break area, found it deserted, and ducked inside, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

Dialing the phone number printed on the card, he looked again at the series of three photos clipped to it.

A girl, long hair, very pretty; one image of her walking down a random street in a waist-length fur coat and jeans, another of her peering down at a tray of rings displayed on black velvet, her hand raised to keep the hair from spilling past her shoulder and onto the counter, and the third one, a little blurry from the extreme zoom, but showing that striking face nearly straight-on, delivering the full impact of those dazzling eyes. 

_That_ had been the thing he remembered, even four or five days after being given the photos, and the number, and then immediately forgetting about both. Seeing her tonight, in the club, and at first ignoring her as just another pretty girl flirting with that idiot Dylan, but then catching one quick glimpse of those amazing... well, knowing the women here it was probably just colored contacts anyway--

Just two rings in, someone picked up the other end of the line.

“Yes?”

Ian cleared his throat.

“Uh, hi. Um, some guys came by a few days ago and gave me some pictures. They said I should call if I saw this girl--”

The voice cut him off, sounding much sharper than it had a moment before.

“You've seen her?”

Ian grinned down at the photos, each of which was marked at the bottom with a single word: 'Dawn'. The man on the phone sounded _very_ interested in the girl, which was good news to a man with expensive habits, like himself.

“I saw her less than ten minutes ago. I know exactly where she is, right this very second. Now, your guys mentioned something about a finder's fee....”

  
* * * * *  


Colorado Springs Airspace  
Now:

Colonel Harry Maybourne adjusted his noise-dampening headphones and peered impatiently out of the UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter's open door. The lights of Peterson Air Force Base were passing below, but he had no time for the usual niceties. Instead of landing at the airfield, he was using his special authorizations to put down at the Cheyenne Mountain complex itself. Up ahead, the granite peak loomed, with the brilliant lights of the security zone and the tunnel entrance clearly visible pools of illumination in the surrounding darkness.

The voice of his pilot came through his headphones circuit, confirming their identity to the ground controllers, and both Maybourne's aircraft and the identical helicopter that followed behind began their descent.

There would be no interference from Hammond, or O'Neill, or anyone else this time. Months earlier, his attempts to seize the Tollan had been blocked, his efforts to secure their advanced technology for the United States thwarted, first by the SGC command staff, and then by the aliens known as the Nox. Infuriatingly, those priceless, desperately needed prizes had been put forever beyond humankind's reach, and for reasons he couldn't even begin to understand, Hammond and his crew had seemed _glad_.

But not this time. For this, he had the full support of both the Pentagon _and_ the president himself, and the SGC would be receiving calls to that effect even now. This time, there would be no delays, no cute games played by doctor Jackson, no bizarre claims that just because he was a civilian he was immune to the consequences of his actions.

No, this time it was as much a matter of national security as it was a matter of gaining offworld technology to defend their planet. This time, he was fully empowered to use whatever force he deemed necessary to acquire the target, the girl they'd codenamed 'Emerald', and he was fully prepared to do whatever it took to achieve that objective.

The two helicopters touched down, crowding the limited landing area a little as the skilled pilots found the room they needed. Moments later Maybourne was out and hurrying across the pavement towards the first security checkpoint. Behind him came his best sixteen men; all cleared for access to the SGC, all armed with the specialized weapons and equipment that Area 51 had developed for them.

This time, Colonel Harry Maybourne wasn't going to leave empty-handed.

  
* * * * *  


…To be continued. 


	10. 'Convergence Part IV: Tiny Lies, Deeper Truths'

Buffy, Stargate, and the other works mentioned herein are the property of their respective owners. I may be borrowing them for my own purposes here, but I promise I'll put them back when I'm done, and in pristine condition.

Also:  
Charles Jackson, Robert Wallper, Lilliane Assous, Janessa Ravenwood, David Helmink, Dale, Christopher, Visitant Sierra, Rickard, Paul Millsted, Michael Cronin, Jeffrey Clemons, Ethan Barton, Jessamyn Howe, Janne Syrjakoski, Mpop, Chris Ellis, Ken Hagler, Brandon Young, Andy Rowell, Marcel, Lauren Cash, and Special Guest Star: LunasMeow.  
\-----They know why.

AN: You may notice that in this chapter especially, time gets a bit... stretchy. Sorry, no way to avoid it, so I hope you'll forgive me doing the trope-ish thing where, in order to fit everything in, the minutes sort of expand as needed. What can I say, there's a lot to cover, and Stargates don't stay open _nearly_ long enough, darn it.

 

 

A voice was murmuring something to her; softly, insistently, and from very far away.

Dawn ignored it. Everything was peaceful, and she was floating in a warm cocoon of cotton, hidden in some timeless place where everything was perfect and painless.

Well... maybe not _quite_ perfect. There was a faint but definite tightness in her chest; a sort of vague pressure that had crept up on her so slowly that she had barely noticed. It didn't hurt, it just made breathing in and out a little difficult. Not that she really needed to breathe, of course, not in this place of floaty warmth and peace.

The murmur came again, sounding more agitated, though if anything it was even more distant now, and therefore easier to ignore, so she did. 

The warmth seemed to grow warmer, the softness softer, and a faint humming in her ears was telling her that everything was as fine as fine could possibly be....

Dawn opened her eyes with a gasp, then squeezed them shut as the stark white brightness of the overhead lights stabbed deep into her skull.

" _Ow_ , stop, stop it, I'm up, I'm awake." The pain behind her eyes became the relentless pounding of a headache, and she scowled irritably, her lids still tightly shut.

"God, Buffy, do you have to do this every morning?" Dawn could totally whine and grumble at the same time and have both of them come through loud and clear; she'd had a lot of practice. "I don't even know why I have to _go_ to school; it's not like anything they teach us there is going to matter if Glory finds me and squishes me down into some cosmic keyhol--"

She stopped in mid complaint and frowned.

Something wasn't right. Glory _had_ found her, and then Buffy had come to save her, and that had led to Buffy running and leaping and falling--

The misery hit her again; that one, particular grief that was familiar and painful, forever and always. Sudden tears threatened, and she hurriedly wrenched her mind back from that place and time, from the innocence and horror of those infinitely distant days, all of two and a half years ago... through the most recent events and back to the present.

_Willow trying to un-Key me._

_Falling between universes._

_Metal Donut._

_Awesome, Superpowered Dawnie._

_Evil soldiers_.

She heaved a heavy sigh.

_A really, really bad plan--two of them, actually... but at least I was trying my best...._

_Only it wasn't good enough: they beat me, they caught me._

_And here I am._

She opened her eyes again, squinting just a little now as they adjusted to the brightness, and looked up at the woman standing over her in the white coat; the pretty, older woman from before.

"Uh, hi?" Dawn ventured, turning her head back and forth for a quick look around. 

She was in a different place; not the medical room she'd been in before. That one had reminded her of an emergency room at a hospital, just more spartan and depressing, with cold, grey concrete everywhere. This space, though, looked disturbingly similar to Spike's description of the Initiative. The ceiling was high and the room was much bigger than it needed to be--Dawn's bed and the medical monitor-thingies clustered around her were out in the middle, surrounded by yards and yards of empty space in every direction, making her feel smaller and more helpless than ever. There was even a cluster of angled windows up at the ceiling on one side, and a space behind them where mad-scientist professors and evil military people could stand and stare down at the innocent, completely harmless girls they managed to capture.

"Do you know where you are?" The woman next to her asked. "Do you remember me?"

Dawn looked up at her and nodded, then winced as the aches and pains from her many injuries began to make themselves known again, and in a very odd way. They were faint at first, but returning all at the same time, and the sensations were steadily creeping up in intensity, like someone was turning up a volume knob, higher and higher, just in slow, tiny increments. 

"I'm in your secret base, under the mountains. You're doctor... um...."

She couldn't find the name. She knew the woman had told her, but everything had been sort of fuzzy because of the pills, on top of her being scared out of her mind when they'd somehow used their donut ring to take away her newfound distance-jumping magic. Her embarrassment nearly overwhelmed her fear as she took her best guess at the name.

"Doctor... Frampton?"

The woman smiled slightly.

"Close. It's Doctor Fraiser, or Janet." She turned her head slightly to look at one of the beeping monitor screens. Dawn, even though the pain from all her various hurts was edging up to where it was hard to ignore, took the opportunity to sneak another quick look at her surroundings, hoping for something that would let her escape.

_Maybe the unlocking part of my Key-ness still works? I could open the door and make a run for those elevators I found last time I was--_

Her thought stopped short as her eyes found the guards she'd missed before. Half-empty as the room was, there were still lots of things along the walls; computer or electronic things in big, boxy arrangements. Again she was reminded of mad scientists and the Initiative, or at least of a really-well equipped biology lab at the university campus outside of Sunnydale.

And because of all that stuff that lined the walls, she'd somehow missed the soldiers spaced around the room, four of them, all watching her alertly. Dawn looked from one to the other, a sinking feeling in her middle as she noted the two that stood flanking the only door. 

She winced then, and almost gasped out loud--whoever was turning up the dial on her pain was going slow, but he wasn't stopping either, and it was starting to get really bad.

Doctor Framp, er, Fraiser, finished her scan of the medical readouts, nodded in satisfaction, then turned back to Dawn. "All right, your vitals look better." She took a breath and gave a little huff of consternation before continuing, and for some reason there was a faintly apologetic look on her face.

"I had to give you a dose of Naloxone--sometimes it's called Narcan--do you know what that is?" Dawn shook her head nervously. "Well, it temporarily blocks the effects of opioids, and it's used when someone overdoses." Her look became stern. "You took so many of those pills that you passed out, and were starting to have trouble breathing. I _tried_ to wake you so that I could explain first. I don't want to do anything without your consent; we don't want to trick you or frighten you more than we already have, believe me." 

Dawn would have thanked her for that consideration. She would have apologized for being so suspicious and complainy before, and maybe she even would have promised to try and be a good patient--or at least not an overly-whiny one. She would have done all those things, really, and she even would have mostly meant them, only the far, _far_ more important thing right at that moment was the fact that--

"It _hurts!_ " She tried to twist on the bed in reaction to what she was feeling. The pain might-- _might_ \--have finally stopped increasing now, but it really felt even worse than it had after she'd first been hurt, hours earlier... unless that was just how it seemed after the wonderful relief the pills had given her for that time, and weren't any more.

The doctor--Janet--was already gesturing to a pair of nurse-types, a man and a woman, who promptly wheeled over a tray-table thing on wheels with various items laid out on it.

"I'm sorry, Dawn. Blocking the drugs you took also means they're not preventing you from feeling your injuries; it's an all or nothing effect." She nodded to the two nurses. "Caitlin and David, here, can give you local anesthesia to help with most of it; is that okay?"

Dawn nodded frantically, ignoring how that made her headache feel even worse.

"Yes please ow ow, thank you for asking but yesyesyes--!"

She didn't care if they thought she was being a baby instead of a strong, empowered woman. Acting tough wouldn't have made it hurt less, and she knew quite well that she _wasn't_ tough. Dawn had once seen Faith get set on fire by an especially brave and resourceful policeman who had just happened to be present during one of her assassinations... and Faith had simply gritted her teeth and killed the man anyway, and her target besides, all while her skin was still smoldering (a week later she was perfect and beautiful again--the brave policeman... not so much). She'd seen Buffy trade punches with a goddess, absorb damage that would have destroyed a _building_ , and keep coming back for more.

Dawn knew better than most what 'tough' really was, and she knew she didn't qualify, so she didn't try to pretend otherwise.

"Give me the shot, please give me the shot," She begged instead, then corrected herself. "Make that 'shots'. I'd like many shots--lots of shots." She had to whimper then, as the worst of the wounds, the two nasty taser burns, tried to eat their wall all the way through to her middle and then out the other side. In a strained voice she whispered: " _All_ of the shots would be the best possible thing, if it isn't too much trouble."

Janet seemed torn between sympathy and gentle amusement; she smiled reassuringly and touched the top of Dawn's head, stroking her hair once, then stepped out of the way as her two assistants began preparing multiple small syringes.

"I have to go give my report, but I'll be back soon. Don't worry. Even though it feels awful, nothing you've suffered is life-threatening; you're going to be fine."

She started out of the room, then paused, and moved to speak briefly with one of the guards standing by the door. It was a woman; on the short side, blonde and sturdy and tough-looking. Also very familiar, from earlier-- 

"Hi there, Dawn," The male nurse said, diverting her attention as he shifted her arm slightly to better examine the burn just below her shoulder. "I'm David, and this is Caitlin." The other one, a young woman with freckles and short, red-blonde hair grinned down at her.

"Don't worry, Dawn; it wouldn't be safe to give you _all_ the shots, but we _can_ do 'many shots'." She wasn't especially pretty, but Caitlin's voice was genuinely lovely, with a sweet tone and lilting cadence that accompanied a noticeable Irish accent.

"Yay," Dawn managed to squeak between the little whimpers that were emerging now with each exhalation.

A moment or two later she felt the first tiny stick, quite close to the worst of the hurts, then another close to that one, then another, and then--

"Ah--aaaaaaahh...." She breathed the sound out softly, as the pain of that awful hole burned into her skin quickly faded, leaving blissful numbness in its place. Meanwhile, the other nurse was doing something to Dawn's side, down where the other burn was located. Caitlin's needle-fu was stronger than David's: Dawn didn't even feel the pinpricks this time, just the swift lessening of the pain into nothing.

"These locals are a different kind of drug than the one you took," David told her absently, apparently to reassure her as the two of them continued to work on her. "They have a different molecular structure, and a different method of action, so they're not blocked by the Narcan."

Caitlin, gently probing the knee that was hurting the worst, nodded in agreement.

"And these won't be making it hard for you to breathe; it honestly wouldn't brighten anyone's day if we had to intubate you and put you on a respirator."

That was no doubt true, though for her part, Dawn had no real interest in the details of which drugs did what, and why. It was enough for her that they seemed to be keeping their word about not hurting her; that they even seemed to genuinely care if she were comfortable.

Not that she could escape if things were otherwise, not with her powers blocked, but if they really _weren't_ the Initiative, or something like them; if all this really _had_ been some sort of simple misunderstanding, then maybe the doctor lady had been right.

Maybe she really would be fine.

Only....

When she turned her head and looked over at the door that led out of the big room, she couldn't help but notice that whatever doctor Fraiser was saying to the guard lady, it was _not_ making the woman with the guns and camo very happy.

* * * * *

Alicia was _not_ feeling very happy.

About _any_ of this.

"Ma'am," She tried again, still with the same degree of polite deference that she always used when addressing an officer. "I must respectfully remind you that this is an alien being who has not yet been designated a friendly by the command staff. Accordingly, my orders state that she must remain under guard at all times while within the bounds of the SGC."

Doctor Fraiser-- _Major_ Fraiser, paused in the act of sorting the sheets of computer printout that one of the lab techs had just handed her and regarded Alicia levelly.

"Sergeant Drake. She is not a threat; these--" She held up the printouts. "--These _prove_ that she isn't a threat. What she is, is afraid. Of me, of this," A quick nod at the room around them, and the base in general. "And most especially, of you and your people."

Alicia blinked once while processing that, though of course it made sense. None of the medical personnel were armed; none of the ones in the room were even wearing something recognizable as a military uniform. In their scrubs--or in Fraiser's case her white lab coat--they would all fit in perfectly at a civilian hospital. It was only Alicia and the three SP's that made up the rest of the detachment that showed the situation for what it was: they were guards, and the alien girl was their prisoner.

"Ma'am, that does not alter my responsibilities, or my orders."

The other woman stared back, her lips narrowing to a thin line as she considered. 

She outranked Alicia, obviously, but as a medical officer she was _not_ in the same chain of command, and it was not within her power to countermand a standing order unless a medical emergency was in play, and lives were in immediate danger. If she tried, Alicia was entirely within her rights to refuse, and simply refer Fraiser to someone further up the line, which would be either colonel O'Neill or general Hammond. If she could get one of _them_ to change the orders then everything would be dandy, but until or unless that happened....

"I must therefore respectfully refuse to remove myself and my personnel from our posts. Ma'am."

The doctor made an exasperated sound, checked her watch, and glanced back at the girl, still lying on her bed in the center of the isolation room.

"I don't have _time_ for this, Sergeant."

Alicia said nothing, and kept her face completely neutral. There was an art to that, when a superior officer was in the wrong and you both knew it.

"All right," The major said, her tone softening. "At least put your people outside the door. There's no other way out of here for her, not while the Gate is active. And the fewer guns she sees, non-lethal or not, the more comfortable she'll be."

The alien's comfort or lack of it wasn't exactly high on Alicia's list of priorities. Even so, she weighed her options carefully. 

She _was_ allowed some leeway for improvisation in the execution of her orders... and it was never a good idea to piss off the person who was in charge off putting you back together again after an accident or a battle, even if the regulations allowed you to do so. Besides, the room _was_ secure; enough so that putting the guards right outside the door was just as good as having them inside, with the exception of--

"We have to consider the safety of your people here, ma'am." She pointedly looked at the two medical assistants working on the girl, then back to Fraiser. "There's no way of knowing for certain that our 'visitor'--" She really, really didn't want to use the alien's human-sounding name; that felt too much like bestowing a pet name upon the unexploded WWII mortar shell you'd just accidentally tripped over in a stand of weeds while hiking along a trail in the hills of France. "--That she isn't still capable of hurting someone, despite what your tests tell you."

The major's eyes narrowed slightly, though she couldn't really argue with that.

"And so?"

Alicia swallowed a sigh before she answered.

"I'll put McCray and Collier in the hall outside. Erickson and I will stay here."

Still not looking completely happy with the compromise, but apparently aware that Alicia had gone as far as she was willing to go in the matter, Fraiser frowned, squared the stack of printouts she held, and finally made a gesture of acquiescence.

"Good enough, sergeant Drake. Just please try to be unobtrusive, all right? She's had bad experiences with the military, some of them as recently as a few hours ago."

Nodding silently in acknowledgment, Alicia watched the woman hurry away down the hall, then turned and gestured at two of her security forces airmen. When they joined her in the doorway she lowered her voice and filled them in.

"Tommy, you and Paul set up in the hall out here, okay?" Moving with them into the corridor, she indicated where she wanted them. "Keep this door closed, but make sure your radios are on channel four, and keep an ear out for anything weird going on in here. If you hear something go crash, boom, or zap, Tommy backs down the hall and radios for help while Paul kicks the door open and shoots the superpowered alien terrorist crybaby over there with as many tranq darts as it takes to drop her. Clear?"

The two of them shared a look, and Collier grinned at her.

"Not a fan of the Goa'uld Barbie, sarge?"

Alicia shook her head slightly, taking a second to check and make sure everything inside the isolation room was still peaceful.

"I'm not exactly following her on social media, no," She allowed in a deadpan tone.

McCray snickered, peering into the room where the two medicos were talking with their patient as they applied fresh bandages to the worst of her wounds. One of them, Clarke, the woman with the incongruous accent, said something to the girl that got a surprised-seeming giggle out of her, though it broke off with a wheeze as she clutched at her ribs in pain, then she giggled again, faintly, in spite of herself.

"Looks like Caitlin and Davey are already friends with her; guess it's easy when she's looking all cute and harmless like that." He gave Alicia a significant look. "Story of your life, huh, Alley? I bet high school was rough, what with all the guys going after those tall, sexy, cheerleader-types, and none of them noticing the short, brawny chicks on the soccer team?"

She gave him the withering look that crap deserved.

"Oh, I got 'noticed' often enough, Tommy; lots of guys are into girl jocks. And besides, most of us have moved on from high school; it's only you who's still mad at the quarterback for having sex with your date the night of the prom--in the backseat of _your_ car."

McCray flushed pink with embarrassment and impotent, long-held anger, no doubt regretting yet again the time he'd shared that particular story with everyone over a few too many beers.

And sure, she'd been burned a few times back in high school, when guys she was interested in would show some interest in return, only to suddenly ignore her the moment one of the gorgeous girls of the popular elite tossed their hair or wiggled their butt. But despite that, Alicia had never joined in on the hate for those girls; they were what they were, they were using the power they had, the beauty that genetics and chance had given them, and most guys were simply not interested in resisting the orders given them by their hormones and biology. 

And to be completely fair, she'd traded on the biological programming of the average guy a bit herself--she didn't kill herself for endless hours in the gym every week _just_ so that she could hold her own in the male-dominated military. Her tight, compact form filled out a little black dress or a pair of yoga pants quite nicely, and _not_ because she'd just happened to win the genetic lottery, thank you very much.

So instead of making jokes about vain Barbie dolls, or shallow cheerleaders, or even the inarguable tragedy of Tommy's senior prom experience, she lowered her voice even further and spelled out her real concern.

"This isn't me being jealous of how she looks; that would be idiotic." Alicia and Paul both looked at McCray, who could only mumble something inaudible and look away. "This is about doing our jobs, and staying serious about guarding the mysterious _alien_." 

She took another long look into the room; she'd been keeping an eye on it all along, obviously, but it made her uneasy to be this far away. Something subtle might happen while she wasn't close enough to see--something that could end up costing them lives.

"It looks like a girl. A _cute_ girl." Collier shrugged and nodded, and McCray took another look as if to be sure before making a face.

"Right now she looks like somebody kicked her down five flights of stairs, and she's _still_ hotter than anybody I've ever dated."

"Exactly. And when you combine that with the 'wounded kitten' act she's putting on, everybody's already forgotten about what she just did." Alicia hooked a thumb back in the direction of the Gate Room. "She proved that she can basically carpet-bomb us, even here, under half a mile of rock. Give her a Zat, or even somebody's sidearm and enough ammo, and she could take out everybody on the base in ten minutes--I know _I_ could, if I had her powers."

She clenched a fist in frustration.

"No matter what she looks like, and even if doctor Fraiser's tests show she _isn't_ a Goa'uld, we know she isn't a human being, either. So we shouldn't be _treating_ her like a human being."

Paul shot her a smirk.

"Oh no, oh no, Alley is being horribly racist!"

All three of them grinned briefly at that, since airman Paul Collier was emphatically black, by way of Sudanese grandparents on his mother's side and a West Indian father on the other. 

"Not even close," she assured him, when that moment had passed. "Teal'c is an alien too, and he's okay in my book, and pretty much everyone else's here, too. But Teal'c has _proved_ himself, over and over. He's put his life on the line to help us." Alicia made a furtive gesture at the girl on the table, nearly forty feet away. "All _she's_ done is pull a dumbass stunt with those fake IED's... and get herself captured."

McCray's eyes went wide.

"Holy shit, Alley, what if she _let_ herself get caught?"

She looked at him blankly.

"What?"

"Yeah, you know, like the bad guy in that Bond movie, _Skyfall_. Where it was part of his _plan_ to get caught, so he could mess with the Brit secret service from the inside!"

Collier was nodding along.

"Or Loki, in the first Avengers movie. Or Joker in _The Dark Knight_. Maybe she wanted us to put her in this exact room, even."

Alicia eyed them both, and then shook her head.

"Okay guys, bring it down a notch. I mean, yeah, that's at least _possible_... but lets not get crazy here. All I want is for us to be ready in case there's trouble, and not be all cuddles and kisses with this person like everyone else is being, just because she happens to look like some ivy-league dream girl, okay?"

McCray, still visibly caught up in the possibility that they were dealing with a hyperintelligent mastermind who was ten moves ahead of everyone, shrugged before he nodded, though Collier, at least, seemed to be in the right mindset: wary, but not to the point of panic.

"Don't worry, Alley, we'll stay sharp out here."

She touched him on the shoulder briefly, gave McCray a stern look, and then headed back inside the room.

The door closed behind her, and she walked a half-circuit around the perimeter, stopping where she was close enough to watch what was happening on the treatment bed. Almost without thinking she dropped her hand to check the heavy dart pistol clipped to her belt, right beside her actual sidearm, making sure she could quickly access both, if need be.

She saw the alien catch sight of her through the gap between the two medics, and she saw those blue-green eyes follow her hand as it touched the pistols. When those eyes widened slightly in fresh fear or worry, and then lifted to meet her own.

She _did_ look harmless; like someone's teenaged kid-sister, scared she was in trouble with her parents because she'd snuck a couple of beers and then wrecked the family car. 

Alica made a conscious effort to ignore the visual, though, and focus entirely on the situation itself. This was no time for games, or carelessness. If the thing that looked like a girl was trying to lull them into complacency, Alicia wasn't going to fall for it. 

Colonel O'Neill had put her in charge of keeping an eye on things here, and she wasn't about to let him down.

* * * * *

When Jack saw how many sheets of printout were jammed into doc Fraiser's heavy duty clipboard he winced, bracing himself for an hour-long flood of medical gobbledygook. Not only did they not have time for that right now, it would serve little purpose anyway since the technical details of the medical report would doubtless go completely over his head.

He was therefore a bit surprised when Fraiser's report was exactly one sentence long: 

"This girl is _not_ a Goa'uld."

Momentarily nonplussed, O'Neill looked at her blankly, then glanced sideways at Hammond, Daniel, and Teal'c, who rounded out the little group that had gathered in the medical quarantine bay's observation area, then finally back to the doctor.

"That's it?" He asked. "She's just 'not'? You're _sure_ there's no weird readings you don't understand? No tiny little bombs in her intestines? No itty-bitty weirdness that's almost not worth mentioning, but that'll come back to bite us in the ass when we're not expecting it?"

The look he got from the small woman was not one of amusement.

"You wanted fast results, Colonel, and that's what these are--the fast results." They all looked down through the angled glass into the room below; the same one they used when studying potentially hazardous materials or items that came back through the Gate. The various pieces of monitoring and analytical equipment had been rolled back against the walls, leaving Dawn on her treatment bed in the center of the room, looking worried and a little scared as two of Janet's medical team tended her. Two watchful SF personnel stood guard at the edges of things; Jack assumed that sergeant Drake had more of her people posted outside; he didn't know her well, but what he'd seen so far had left him impressed with her competence and common sense. 

When he looked up, Fraiser was addressing Hammond.

"The quick and dirty tests all point to her being fully human, but please don't hold me to that. We haven't had time to run her DNA; even with the best equipment available, nothing on Earth will get us those results in the time we have."

General Hammond nodded in acknowledgment, even as he checked his watch.

"Understood, doctor. And as of right now, we have less than twenty-three minutes before the Gate shuts down." He gestured at the printouts she held. "What else _can_ you tell us about our visitor?"

By way of answer, the small woman half-turned, mouse-clicked through several screens on her console, and directed their attention to a screen that began flickering through a series of images.

"I can say with a very high degree of certainty that she is not currently hosting a Goa'uld parasite." The screen flickered again, shifting to a closeup of a skull and spine, then the brain and other soft tissues, shown in first one set of complex shapes and colors, then another, then another. "Furthermore, the lack of any measurable strengthening or alteration of her musculoskeletal system, as well as the absence of neural scarring or changes to her brain morphology, makes it fairly unlikely that she has ever _been_ a host... although that does bring up something that colonel O'Neill might call a 'weirdness'."

Jack, feeling both a sinking feeling _and_ an unmistakable sense of vindication, raised a triumphant forefinger and opened his mouth to deliver an 'Ah HA!'... only to have Daniel cut him off.

"What kind of weirdness?"

Fraiser looked at him, then the general, and reached out to tap the screen.

"These scans just confirm something I noticed when I was examining her. For lack of a better term, she seems... new."

Jack frowned, and Daniel matched him, speaking again:

"New? How exactly do you mean?"

She shook her head slightly, almost seeming to regret having brought it up at all.

"It's mostly little things, and I admit I'm not completely sure, but--" She pointed at the scan images again. "The bone formation, especially at the joints, here. The cartilage, also, in the knees and ankles, wrists and shoulders. Granted, she seems to be a young adult, probably seventeen or eighteen at most, and certainly most teenagers haven't had time to do excessive amounts of damage to their bodies yet. And still...."

Hammond raised his eyebrows a tiny fraction.

"And still?"

"And still, there should be _something_ there. Some sign of wear, some old injury that didn't heal properly, some tiny malformation or defect due to diet, or genetics, or random chance."

Jack glanced at the images on the display, but of course it all looked like pretty much every other x-ray or MRI scan he'd seen, so he looked back to Fraiser.

"And there isn't?"

She shook her head in confirmation.

"There isn't. It's like looking at an anatomy textbook, everything perfect, everything exactly as it should be." She gestured to the room below with the clipboard she still held. "She has an impressive collection of fresh scrapes and scratches and bruises right now, but as best I can tell from the quick exam I had time for, there isn't a single scar on her body. Also no moles, freckles or birthmarks, not one cavity or dental filling. I almost had to use a magnifier just to find a _pore_." 

Fraiser looked uneasy, but also still vaguely uncertain.

"I'm not sure if it means anything. It may simply be that she's very healthy, and has extremely good genes. Yes, we know that the Goa'uld can repair and to some extent improve the bodies they take over, but I stand by my assessment--there is absolutely no sign that she's ever been a host."

Teal'c, who had been staring silently down at the girl in the room below, finally spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

"There exist certain Goa'uld who are masters of various sciences and technologies; some so advanced and powerful that they are thought of as nearly a form of magic, even by the System Lords. These individuals are called Artificers. They are greatly revered by all but the most foolish or arrogant among the Goa'uld." He gave Jack a level look before turning to stare through the glass once more. "It is said that the greatest among them can even create living beings in their laboratories; springing fully-formed from nothing. These creatures may be created in nearly any shape and likeness, even that of a man or woman. The tales say they are incapable of true thought, though they may mimic the words and actions of human and Jaffa, and that they exist only as the slaves and tools of their masters."

Daniel, still in his self-appointed role as Dawn's defender, gave the big man a reproachful look.

"Sure, she could be some mythological doppelganger... or maybe she's simply from a culture with highly advanced medical technology." He turned to Fraiser, then Hammond and O'Neill. "For all we know, people on her world live to be a thousand years old, have no genetic defects, and never show any signs of age at all."

Hammond's expression was hard to read. He nodded to Daniel, acknowledging his point, then looked to Teal'c.

"Leaving aside the legends and rumors about synthetic humans, you're certain these 'Artificers' actually exist? You've seen them?"

Teal'c inclined his head slightly.

"I have, three times. Those who are truly worthy of the title are relatively few in number, and usually quite secretive. Most care for little outside of their studies and their devices. The lesser Goa'uld--especially those warlords who seek to build great empires--will often offer great riches and promises of future favors in exchange for the services of such an individual for even a brief time. The staff weapons, the Ha'tak motherships, even the Jaffa themselves, all were designed by various Artificers throughout the ages."

His eyes turned once more to Dawn, lying helpless down below.

"Perhaps this being was created by one of them, on behalf of Apophis or some other, to be their agent on Earth. It is said that they themselves possess powers of the mind and body that are far beyond those of other Goa'uld; might they not have given this one her power to move from place to place so that she may be a more effective weapon?" He regarded them all with dark, impassive eyes. "What better ability for a Goa'uld assassin, than the power to be anywhere, to defeat any lock, and to bypass any guardian?"

Jack winced. Sure, that _could_ be what was going on, but it didn't fit his feeling of the girl at all. He saw Hammond's eyes harden, though, and knew that the older man was re-evaluating the situation in light of this new possibility. Daniel, of course, already had his mouth open to argue--but surprisingly it was Fraiser who got there first.

"I don't know anything about these Goa'uld mad scientists of yours, Teal'c, but if Dawn is here to kill someone, she has an interesting way of going about it." She flipped back several pages on her clipboard, then turned it so that all of them could see the colorful graphs printed there.

"Blood alcohol level of point-oh-four; which means she was at or near the legal limit when she staged her 'bombing raid' earlier. There are also faint traces of MDMA in her system; I'd guess about three days since she last took a dose."

Jack registered surprise, his mind flashing back for a moment to one memorable weekend leave in Spain, over twenty years earlier. There, a young lieutenant O'Neill, who had yet to meet his future wife, had stumbled upon a very interesting party, and made the acquaintance of an even more interesting pair of exotic dancers. Somewhere along the line, thanks to too many drinks and the ladies' undeniable charms, they managed to talk him into his one and only experience with the drug Ecstasy. He'd never really been tempted to indulge again after that; he simply wasn't that kind of person, and besides, he had been too focused on his career, his duty, and later on his family... but there was no denying that it had been a unique and... not-unpleasant experience.

Then, snapping himself back to the present, he remembered Daniel was there, and doubtless feeling completely lost, so he started to explain:

"Y'see, Daniel, MDMA is this stuff that makes you feel very--"

The younger man interrupted him.

"I know about Ecstasy, Jack."

O'Neill felt his eyebrows climb towards his hairline.

"You do?"

Daniel gave him a sidelong look, then shrugged with visible discomfort.

"I _did_ go to college, you know. One of my professors was obsessed with the idea of altering consciousness as a way to gain insight into certain ancient rituals and texts, because he theorized that the ancient people performing the rituals had also altered their perceptions with drugs. When he took groups of students out with him on field trips, he basically gave out LSD, Peyote, and a few other things like they were candy... including ecstasy."

Everyone was looking at him, and in spite of himself, Jack was a little shocked.

"And you _took_ them?"

Daniel ducked his head in a sort of sideways nod, and spread his hands.

"Even anthropology students like to have a little fun sometimes, Jack. Besides, what if he'd been right?"

There wasn't much to say to that, so Jack settled for a thoughtful "Huh," and then looked back to Janet.

"So you're saying she's been spending her time partying, as opposed to, say, assassinating people?"

Fraiser could only indicate the various graphs once more.

"Alcohol, MDMA, nicotine, and traces of one or two other things I can't quite pin down with one batch of rushed tests, plus the sizable dose of opiate-based medication she took to deal with the pain of her injuries. And she _doesn't_ have a Goa'uld-style over-driven metabolism that would let her ignore the effects, either."

Hammond stepped closer to the angled glass and looked down at their visitor in the room below. O'Neill could see that Carter had arrived, having retrieved some equipment from her lab, and was now setting up something complicated-looking next to Dawn's bed, while the girl watched warily.

The general frowned down at the scene for a few seconds before speaking.

"If we're to take her at her word, then somehow, despite having arrived through the Stargate, the girl doesn't understand what it does, or that there's a limit on how long it can remain in continuous operation."

Jack checked his watch, and despite the seriousness of the situation he almost laughed aloud when he saw both Daniel and Fraiser do the exact same thing in perfect unison. Daniel, who hadn't noticed, looked up with worried eyes.

"Well, we have about twenty minutes left to decide what to do with her."

Hammond gave him a level look.

"No, doctor Jackson, we have twenty minutes left for _me_ to decide what to do with her."

His tone made it clear that he didn't relish the circumstances that had put a girl's life in his hands. Then his head lifted slightly as some thought occurred to him, and he looked at Fraiser.

"Major. I want you to sedate her; make sure she's completely under before we reach the time limit on the Stargate, and keep her that way while I talk this over with my superiors. Hopefully, we can come to some kind of--"

Janet cut him off.

"I'm sorry, general, but I can't do that." Seeing the look on his face she paged through the sheets on her clipboard until she found what she wanted. "Sir, I might not have made it clear, but when I said Dawn had taken a high dose of narcotic pain medication, I should have said 'a _very_ high dose'." She gestured to the room below. "This is not an especially large girl--in fact she's underweight for her height--and she isn't particularly fit or strong, either. The dosage she took is technically within the bounds of an overdose, and without treatment there is some chance it might have been fatal."

Hammond looked thoughtful.

"But you _did_ treat her; didn't you neutralize the drugs she'd taken?"

"No sir, the treatment we used blocks their effects, but the opioids are still in her system, and they won't drop to safe levels for another hour at least. If we increase the chemical load her body is dealing with any further, especially with a powerful sedative, then we run a _very_ high risk of killing her."

Jack watched his superior, and felt very, very glad that he wasn't in the other man's place on this one. In the back of his mind he'd assumed that they _would_ simply put the girl under to buy themselves some time and then brainstorm around the big table upstairs until they came up with a solution. Now, though....

The old-style phone on the wall sounded the three tones that identified it as a priority call, and with a grimace that said 'what _now_?' far more clearly that the words ever could have, the general walked over and answered it.

"Hammond. Yes? Yes, I though they might." He shot O'Neill a look that the colonel couldn't interpret, then nodded into the middle distance, still listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. "They just landed? All right, I'm on my way."

Jack suspected he knew exactly what that was about, but he went ahead and asked anyway.

"Maybourne?"

Hammond nodded grimly.

"Maybourne; along with a platoon of special forces, heading into the Mountain right now."

That meant that they had a few minutes; nobody upstairs was going to let a large group of armed soldiers simply charge through NORAD security at a run, no matter how much clout Maybourne might have.

Unfortunately, he probably _did_ have the clout to get them inside, or else he wouldn't bother trying, and that meant that Dawn would be in his custody very shortly. Looking at his superior, he could see that the same thoughts were running through Hammond's mind as well.

"How do you want to play this, sir?"

Unexpectedly, and out of nowhere, the older man smiled, though it was brittle.

"Well, the last time we were in this situation we called the Nox, and they were kind enough to take our guests off our hands." He looked at Daniel. "Any chance of that this time around?"

Daniel looked startled at the question, but quickly shook his head.

"Uh, no sir. Last time the Tollan were the ones that contacted them, we really don't have any way of sending a message...."

The general's smile went lopsided for a moment before vanishing.

"Then I suppose I'll have to put in a call to the _other_ being I know of that has incredible powers: the president." He moved towards the door. "Jack, with me. Doctor Fraiser, doctor Jackson, please see to our patient downstairs."

O'Neill paused just long enough to look down at the girl once more, where she was lying in her bed, speaking hesitantly to Sam, and then he hurried out, with Teal'c trailing silently behind.

* * * * *

After the nice doctor lady left to go do doctor things somewhere else, Dawn had spent an uncomfortable couple of minutes sneaking looks at the little conference the guard soldiers were having just outside the door. Two of them were just guys in uniform; alert enough, and looking like they knew their business, but not especially scary. It was the third one that made Dawn nervous. She was the one in charge of the guards, a woman that looked a little like a plainer, grimmer, more muscled version of Buffy.

She was the one who'd come within inches of killing Dawn earlier; the one who'd put the bullet holes through her jacket while she was dropping off bombs in the big room with the Ring. 

_Just because there aren't any demons, or any magic besides what's inside of me, that doesn't mean it's safe here._

In a way, this place was even worse than her home dimension. At least vampires were limited in what they could do--they had to stay out of the sun, they couldn't find you unless they could see or smell you, and they couldn't get into your house unless you gave permission. Here, though, the monsters were the _soldiers_ , and they had free run of the whole world. Sunlight didn't hurt them, there were no spells to slow or confuse them, and they could somehow find you even if you were being as smart and sneaky as you could possibly be. Worst of all, there was nothing keeping them from getting into the place you lived, from opening the doors and creeping down the hallway at night, right into the bedroom where you were sleeping, and then capturing or murdering you. 

She shivered, and the woman nurse, Caitlin, looked up from where she was gently spreading some sort of ointment over the scrapes along Dawn's hand and arm.

"Are you feelin' cold? Just the Narcan can give you the shivers, though it's not exactly warm in here all on its own now, is it?"

The man standing on the other side of Dawn's bed had been expertly taping square bandages over the electrical burns on her shoulder and side. As he finished he patted her--carefully--on her shin, which was one of the few completely undamaged areas on her body.

"I'll get you a blanket; hold tight."

He headed over to the stacks of plastic storage bins that lined one wall, all of them with neat, white labels that listed their contents. Dawn watched him go, then turned her head back so that she was looking up at the woman.

"I love your accent," She ventured, grateful that at least the medical types in the base didn't seem to hate her. "Isn't it, uh, kind of weird for someone not... American... to be working here? With the secret-ultra-security, or whatever?"

Caitlin grinned impishly, and it turned her pleasantly-plain face into something lovely.

"Ach! Sa, ye've managed ta' suss out me wee Irish brogue now, have ye lass?"

She couldn't help it; Dawn erupted into a fit of giggles, which made her wince as her sore ribs reminded her they were there, but then she giggled again, clutching weakly at her middle to try and minimize the pain.

The nurse winced in sympathy, her smile softening as she put a hand to Dawn's arm.

"Ah, sorry about that," She said in her normal voice, the accent fading to a faint, musical lilt. "I forgot you've got a couple of cracked ones in there along with all the dings and scuffs." She glanced at the medical readouts, then turned to check that the little sticky-pads with the wires connecting to the machines were still properly attached.

"And no, it's not a lot of foreigners who are allowed down here; but them I'm not one." Her hands were very gentle as they checked each of the sensor-thingies, and she glanced at Dawn, then winked. "Me dad is in the Air Force too, and back in the day he was stationed at RAF Croughton--that's a base over in Britain. He met my mother there, and married her, and then one day there I was, surprise!" 

Her merry smile was infectious, and Dawn found herself smiling back up at her.

"So you're American because of your father?"

"Mmm hmm. And he was rotated to bases in the sandy, nasty places a time or three after I was born, so my mom and I stayed with her parents in Kilkenny for some long stretches while I was growing up, and that's why my words have a bit of the old country stuck to 'em, even now."

The other nurse, David, had finally managed to turn up the promised blanket, and he brought it over and started tucking it in around her, being careful of both the leads and of the minor scrapes that hadn't been worth bandaging after they were treated.

"Thanks," She said softly, to both of them. David nodded, and Caitlin gave her a smile.

"You're quite welcome."

There was movement from across the room, and Dawn felt her smile slip away when she saw it was that guard-soldier again, the blonde one. She left the other two out in the hallway, and moved around the edge of the room until she was positioned right across from where the fourth guard was standing, over beneath the windows up in the wall. 

Dave the nurse said something and then left through the door, but it barely registered. All her attention was on the woman who was looking at her with a flat, unfriendly gaze while her hand dropped to the two pistols strapped to the right side of her belt, touching first one, then the other. A frisson of fear went through her.

_That one really,_ really _doesn't like me. And I didn't even do anything to her! I didn't steal her jewelry, or boyfriend, or call her 'no-waist' or anything!_

She looked away. The look in those eyes wasn't psycho-crazy, or even overtly threatening... but there was a sort of determined focus there that she'd seen before, from some very, very dangerous people.

Then the room's single door opened again, and someone pushed a metal trolly thing through, loaded down with all kinds of odd-looking boxes and stuff, and she recognized this woman too.

* * * * *

As Sam positioned her equipment cart near the bed in the center of the room she noticed that the girl was looking at her with a decidedly uneasy expression on her battered, beautiful face.

Carter tried for a reassuring smile, and used the same tone she'd learned to employ offworld, when confronting the nervous inhabitants of a newly-encountered culture.

"It's all right, nobody here is going to hurt you." Her smile turned wry. "Besides, we've run into each other three or four times now, right? We're practically old friends."

The pale girl nodded, a quick flash of embarrassment making her glance away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare, it's just that--" She turned and peered closely at Sam's face before shaking her head. "I mean, I hadn't noticed before, but you look a _lot_ like Maggie Walsh."

Sam's memory was outstanding, but she couldn't recall ever having heard of someone with that name.

"I take it that Maggie Walsh isn't your favorite person?" That got her a wordless shake of the head, and a solemn stare from those huge, wary eyes. "Well, nothing to worry about then. There's nobody here but us Carters."

The wariness didn't leave, but at least the girl relaxed a little, easing back to a more normal, lying position on the bed.

"Okay," she said softly, glancing down, then back up again. "I think it's just seeing you in this room, and the way you wear your hair; hers was really short like that too, and the same shade of blonde, only she was older, and horrible, and liked cutting people into pieces so she could use them to build monsters."

She couldn't help it; Samantha stared at the girl in dismay, trying to parse that. Either it was a joke, and a strange and disturbing one, or she was serious, in which case it both explained a good deal about Dawn's attitude, while also demanding a series of questions in order to learn more about this 'Maggie'.

Unfortunately, time was in short supply, so Sam suppressed those questions and instead waved a hand at the trolly of gear she'd hastily collected and pushed there from her lab.

"Well, I promise I won't be doing anything like that. These are just measuring devices; I'm going to set them up here and aim them at you, but nothing bad will happen. I just need to take some readings, okay?"

The girl looked at the machines, then at Sam, and then her eyes went to the two SF personnel, and she trembled visibly. When she looked back to Carter, her lower lip was trembling.

"Can't you just let me go now? Please?" She touched the side of her head with hesitant fingers. "Didn't doctor Fraiser already do the tests you needed her to do? The ones to make sure I'm not one of those things?"

Sam looked at her uneasily, reluctant to lay out the current situation, and the dilemma faced by general Hammond. Moving to stand beside the bed, she put as much certainty into her expression and voice as she could.

"My boss will have to convince _his_ bosses that it's safe to let you go; those tests will go a long way towards helping him do that, but we have to give him some time to work."

Dawn seemed to deflate a little, and there was a nearly subliminal flicker of a green outline around her body, there and gone in an instant. Even with just that glimpse, though, Sam saw that the aura was still smeared and distorted, stretched in the direction of the still-active Gate. The girl on the bed sighed, and sunk back into her pillow once more.

"Okay, fine." She said, in a very small, sullen voice, looking off at nothing in particular. "Lab mouse Dawn, reporting for duty. Go ahead and zap me with that delta-theta-rambo radiation, and parallax my quantum... stuff. I'm sure it won't hurt much at _all_."

Again, Sam had to take a moment. In the last year she'd been to nearly three dozen planets, had encountered alien creatures and some truly odd offworld humans... but this was new. This being, this super-powered near-human, was not just sulking, she was _pouting_ \--and doing a fantastic job of it, too.

With effort, she tore herself away from that unexpected spectacle and turned to set up her scanners.

She was fully aware that this might be a wasted effort; it was simply the only thing she could think of that _might_ yield useful results in the time they had available.

She'd already established that conventional sensors couldn't detect energy emissions or field effects from the teleport events that Dawn was somehow able to generate. Whatever was going on there, the SGC's technology either wasn't sensitive enough to see it, or it was 'looking' in the wrong place entirely--possibly both.

That said, what was happening right now wasn't a teleport event. Instead, the Gate was doing something that was interacting and interfering with the girl's power. That sort of 'jamming' was seen all the time in electromagnetic effects, and Sam's devices _were_ able to see the entire EM spectrum. So she was going to take a look and see if the two invisible, exotic effects created by the Gate and the Girl were interacting to produce something more mundane, something that Earth-level technology could see and understand. If it turned out that they _were_ , then it might be possible for Samantha to generate the same sort of effect via conventional means, basically working backwards to create a field that could either hold Dawn in place, or shield limited areas from a teleport incursion. With that ability in hand, they could either continue to hold the girl prisoner in a safe and humane way, or they could release her, secure in the knowledge that critical locations could be kept safe from teleport-delivered weapons. 

Assuming, of course, that she was able to detect anything in the first place. 

Turning to her equipment, she started powering on the various units. Given that the SGC was a sprawling network of tunnels and chambers surrounded by bedrock, concrete, and steel reinforcements, the wireless connectivity was notoriously unreliable, even with the repeater modules scattered throughout the tunnels. Rather than take her chances with a dropout that might cost her irreplaceable data, Sam located a fiber optic cable among her gear. Connecting it to her scanning rig, she then knelt and popped open a small cover set into the floor, snapping the other end of the cable into the ethernet socket there.

Standing up, she logged on to the network, then double-checked that all the data from her scans would be saved to the SGC's secure servers.

The female nurse, meanwhile was speaking quietly to Dawn.

"I need to go check on some things, but if you need anything, here's a call unit. It works just like the ones in a hospital, see? Press this button, and David or me will be right in. All right?"

"'Kay," The girl mumbled, her head pulled down beneath her blanket till her head was only visible from mid-nose up.

The woman departed, and Sam started lining up and calibrating her sensors. What she had on the cart was the intermediate prototype for a much-upgraded sensor suite for the MALP units--or, as seemed likely now, the drone vehicles that would replace the MALPs. The system was still being developed and refined, and the unit she had was a rough jumble of circuitry breadboards and small, self-contained modules, with an intricate web of bundled wiring connecting it all.

It looked haphazard, but even incomplete as it was, the system could see everything from gamma and x-rays, through extreme ultraviolet, the visible spectrum, and infrared, down into the upper reaches of the microwave bands. The metallic volleyball of the Nine-Eyes camera unit wouldn't be useful here, as it was a purely visual system designed to give the offworld probes a nearly spherical field of view in visible light. Connected as it was to the rest of the sensor suite she'd been forced to bring it along, but for now she pushed it as far back on the cart as she could, so as to give her room to work on the systems she needed.

One of those was the EM module, which could detect even extremely faint electrical and magnetic effects, though that required the positioning of several rod-like antenna around the bed. The electronic 'noise' from the medical monitors was something of an issue, but she knew better than to turn them off without Janet's express permission.

As she set up the stands with their sensor wands, she felt the girl's gaze following her every move. Even leaving aside Sam's own supposed resemblance to this monstrous 'Maggie' person, Dawn seemed oddly nervous about the completely harmless data gathering.

* * * * *

Super-smart people scared her a little; it was as simple as that. Not the _average_ smart person, the 'oh, isn't he bright, he can do mostly the whole crossword puzzle, nearly every time' or 'wow, he got all 'A's' and 'B's' on his report card' sort of smart. No, what scared her were the ones who were the freaky, _creepy_ kind of smart. People like Professor Walsh, or Giles when he got all serious and intense... or Willow. And it wasn't _only_ because those kinds of people had hurt her before, or tried to hurt people she loved.

It was because freaky-smart people more or less had the cheat codes for the universe. It was like they could think about something, and come up with some impossibly complicated or weird thing to try, and that thing would not only work, it let them beat _anything_.

Back in Sunnydale, back when Xander had still liked her, they'd watched lots of dorky old science fiction movies and shows together, and the scary smart people thing was nearly always there. Oh, sure; there were plenty of action-hero types too, shooting or punching their way to victory, but just as often it would be some clever trick or arcane scientific gibberish that defeated the strange being with the strange powers.

_Only now_ I'm _the one with the powers; I'm the girl that everyone is after, and the super-smart people_ have _defeated me._

And she was afraid it would get even worse. Because lots and lots of times in those shows, the alien person, or the mutant girl that the heroes were fighting against ended up losing more than just the battle or the war--they lost the strongest part of themselves... when the heroes took away their powers forever. 

There was an old Buck Rogers episode that Xander had loved, where the big bad was a gorgeous woman who was basically a Slayer; she had mutant powers that made her stronger and tougher than any human, and she could throw energy blasts from her hands too. An eleven-year old Dawn, already very much aware that her own sister was a similar kind of super-person, had watched, fascinated, as this woman who was so like her Buffy fought against the title character and his friends, beating them up effortlessly, just like a Slayer would... only to lose in the end. 

And she lost because the good guys were creepy-smart; because they were somehow able to build a scary machine that took the woman's powers away, tearing them out of her bit by agonizing bit while she slowly collapsed to the floor, gasping and whimpering in pain and despair.

Somehow, the show made that seem like a good thing; like it was awesome and heroic to do that to her, instead of it being a brutal violation of the person's body and self.

That kind of thing happened over and over again in Xander's shows; in Star Trek, the X-files, even in the kid's cartoons about super-heroes that he watched. 

When it happened to Buffy, for real, with that weird 'test' thing that Giles did to her on her eighteenth birthday, it was horrifying... but not especially surprising.

Not for Dawn. 

Because those stories had already shown her, over and over again, that even the most amazing, powerful, and special person could have their specialness taken away from them. All it took was for a really smart person to come up with the right idea... which was why Dawn was so worried.

_Because Samantha Carter seems really smart._ Creepy _smart, like Willow, or one of the scientists in a movie, even if she tries to act nicer. But she hasn't fooled me. All these machines of hers; she's trying to figure out how to take my Keyness away, like Willow tried to do._

Dawn didn't want that to happen to her. Even Buffy, who had complained endlessly about being 'forced' to be the Slayer, and who had told everyone around her that she desperately wanted to be normal... even she had been terrified when it actually happened. She'd forced herself to fight anyway, and because she was Buffy she'd won, but everyone had seen how much she'd hated being weak and vulnerable, hated having her specialness and power taken away.

Just like Dawn hated it right now.

She tried again, letting the vast energies of what she visualized as a lake of crystalline water pour into her, filling and renewing her, letting her reach out to where she wanted to go and Jump directly there--

Her aura flared, then blurred, and she grunted as the unstoppable torrent of power being sucked into the ring took her breath away, and threatened to take much more than that unless she--

She let it go, and it was like some part of her that had been stretched to the very edge of breaking suddenly snapped back into her body. Brief as it was, the woman, Carter, saw the flare and fade of the green light around Dawn, and she immediately looked at her cart of softly beeping metal and plastic boxes. With a faint nod to herself she adjusted a control, flipped several tiny switches, and repositioned two of the metal rods on their stands next to the bed.

Dawn bit her lip, caught between fear and frustration.

_It's bad enough that I can't leave while they have the donut thing running, but at least my Jump-magic is still there. If they give me a chance, if they let me get close enough to it, maybe I can find a plug to pull, or a pitcher of water or coffee to dump into the control panel or something; anything to turn it off, even for a few seconds_.

She watched Carter work on her gizmos, and it felt like the world was slowly sinking beneath her.

_It has to be soon, though. If she has enough time she'll figure out a way to break my magic for good. She'll shoot phaser beams into my middle, or open some ghostbusterish, ionic-bubonic, techno-blahblah trap to lock me away somewhere forever, or just jab a needle into the exact spot in my brain that I use for my powers, zap it with ten-thousand volts, and then it's all over. They'll all go back to doing whatever they do down here in this awful place, and I'll be so broken that I end up working as a cashier at a mini-mart or something. And I'll get fatter and fatter every day I'm there, because there'll be a whole aisle of cookies and twinkies and chocolate only twenty feet away, and I know for a fact that my willpower would never be able to handle that_.

The nightmarish thing about it all, though, was that there was nothing she could actually do.

Pretty much everyone here was much stronger than herself; even if she caught them by complete surprise she probably couldn't overpower anyone, except maybe doctor Fraiser... and the thought of stabbing Janet in the back with a scalpel or smashing her over the head with a laptop made her feel ill. As for outsmarting them, well, she'd already tried that with her fake bomb idea, and then with the 'film their secret base and blackmail them' thing, and neither of those had worked out especially well for her, had they?

She turned her head to the side and saw the mean-looking security woman checking her wristwatch, and hastily looked away when the blonde guard lifted her gaze and caught Dawn watching her. 

Looking to the other side of the room to avoid that stare, she saw Carter type some kind of computer-code gibberish into one of her techno-scanner devices... and then check her wristwatch.

Dawn frowned.

_Everybody here is kind of obsessed with what time it is, aren't they? Like, a_ lot. _Even doctor Fraiser was looking at her watch every couple of minutes_.

She frowned even more, then winced and made herself stop; her face was still sore, and even the extremely nice Caitlin had refused to give her any of the anti-pain shots there.

_And earlier, when they brought me into the emergency room area, and I was all loopy from the pills... didn't I hear someone talking about 'minutes left'?_

She wasn't sure; everything had been so fuzzy, with the world whirling around and around without regard for gravity. Even so, maybe time was a factor here. Maybe the soldiers only had so long before something happened? Maybe there was a rule they had broken, or a screw-up they were hiding, that would be discovered soon?

Or maybe Carter had been lying when she said her boss would talk to _his_ bosses, and convince them to let her go. What if the ones here had already been _told_ to release her, and they were in a hurry to try and find out a way to break her magic forever before they ran out of time and had to set her free?!

She wasn't sure if she really believed that; it felt like the very wishiest kind of wishful thinking.

_Except what do I have to lose? Pretty much nothing, that's what, so let's try stalling, and see what happens._

She cleared her throat.

"Um, corporal Carter?"

The woman turned away from one of the boxes, which had a screen that was showing a slowly undulating green line on a grid of other lines, and smiled that friendly-seeming smile.

"I know it's hard to keep all the uniforms and insignia straight, but it's 'captain Carter'. What did you need?"

"Oh, sorry, captain Carter. I was just wondering what, exactly all of your blinky, bleepy things are for?"

The woman nodded easily; Dawn got the impression that she had to explain things to people all the time.

"Of course. Well, I'm using them to try and get a better look at what's happening around you. You're obviously interacting with the Stargate in some way, even at this distance, so it stands to reason that there's some kind of field effect or resonance happening... or maybe because you're both drawing on the same energy source or generating similar subspace phenomenon--which is entirely possible since the demonstrated effects are similar--the Gate is interfering with your ability while its active."

That was almost enough to make Dawn forget she was trying to be tricky, though it all worked out to be the same if she kept Carter occupied. 

"The effects are similar... you mean that big metal ring can blip around like I can?" No, wait, she could tell that wasn't right; Dawn knew _she_ wasn't spooky smart, or even good Watcher material, but she wasn't exactly special needs, either. "Wait! _That's_ where those people went, when they disappeared! The ring doesn't jump, it opens up _holes_ for people to go through to other places?"

That was super impressive, and also kind of scary in a completely different sort of way than all the rest of it. If the big circle could do that, then it was an incredibly powerful magical artifact. Like, Hellmouth powerful.

In fact, the whole idea of something portal-like that could send people who entered it to far-away places when it was open sounded almost _exactly_ like a Hellmouth.

Carter, though, didn't sound worried at all. In fact, she gave Dawn a pleased little smile and nod, like she was encouraging a student that had just solved a math problem.

"That's right, it allows us to travel to other planets." Her eyes took on a more curious look. "That's actually something we've been wondering about: how could you have the powers you do and not know how the Gates work? Isn't this... this 'Jumping' ability of yours derived from the same basic technology? I mean, even if it's somehow a part of you, aren't you making use of the same principles, only in a more refined form?"

Dawn's eyebrows went up.

_She thinks I'm using a_ machine _to do my Key tricks? Like what, I swallowed a smartphone with this amazing app on it that lets me text myself to wherever I want to go?_

"Would you like to send Dawnie-dot-gif as an attachment?" She asked herself softly, and then broke down into another sudden giggle-fit, and this time she barely felt the pain from her ribs.

Carter was staring at her, looking concerned.

"They told me they gave you Narcan, but whatever you took is still there in your bloodstream, obviously."

Dawn shook her head quickly, forcing the giggles and her smile away.

"No, I'm sorry, I just thought of something funny."

Then she thought of something else, and any laughter that had still been lurking died a quick death.

_I was relieved because she's_ wrong. _Carter thinks I either use a machine to Jump around, or someone used a machine on me to make me be able to do it. That's good, that means she might try the wrong things to take my magic away. Only, she has to know sort of what she needs to do to turn me into muggle Dawn, because they have that big Ring in the big room, and as long as its running they basically_ have _taken my magic; or at least they've the same as thing as locking up my wand where I can't get to it._

Dawn stared at the woman blankly as something about those references poked at her, then she nodded, and aimed her most innocent and helpful look at Carter.

"If you want to know how I do my special trick, you don't have to use all this science stuff." She directed a little sniff of disdain at the interconnected boxes that were still staring at her in a hundred different ways from their little cart. The bug-eyed camera ball lying on its side was especially unnerving, with its multiple unblinking lenses staring out in all directions.

The corporal-captain woman looked at her uncertainly.

"I don't?"

Dawn shook her head.

"Nope. You could just ask me."

Carter's mouth hung open for a second or two, then her face lit up.

"Oh. Oh! That would be great! Anything she you can tell me about the process would be incredibly helpful in constructing a theoretical model of the teleport effect!"

"Okay then, it's really simple." Dawn looked into the woman's expectant face, raised one hand before her, forefinger raised, and said: 

"Apparition."

Carter's eyebrows slowly drew together, and a tiny crease formed between them.

"I... don't follow," She admitted. Dawn dropped her hand and leaned her head back slightly on her pillow, looking up at the shadowed concrete ceiling high overhead.

"Well, actually you have to _dis_ apparate first, when you're leaving a spot, _then_ you apparate when you get to where you were going."

Judging by her expression, that explanation wasn't quite as helpful as Carter had hoped it would be.

"Disapp--Those are just words for disappear and appear, right? Can't you tell me something about the ability itself? Have you always had it? Is there a process or device that's used to modify your physiology in some way? Can everyone else on your world do what you can do?"

Still looking upwards, Dawn pursed her lips and made a show of pondering the questions, wondering how long she could draw this out.

"You don't start out knowing how, but you have to be born into a family that has the potential to do it; the ones who can't are super-jealous, so we all pretend to be normal when we're where they can see us. When we're kids we get special stick-like, um, _devices_ that help us focus our power, and we make sure to carry them all the time; some people even fight duels with them." She nibbled her lower lip as she carefully avoided looking directly at Carter; she'd been told more than once that she wasn't a great liar, so she didn't want anything on her face to give her away. "Once we're in our seventh year we can take classes to learn how to Apparate." She tried her best to look all pensive and broody as she thought about something dangerous. "It's not especially safe, though; sometimes there are accidents, and people leave bits of themselves behind, especially while they're learning--people would die all the time at my magic school, from all kinds of things, if they didn't have really good healing there--potions especially. That's part of why they won't teach us the really dangerous stuff until we're at least seventeen, and there are some things, like the Unforgivable Curses, that you're _never_ supposed to use."

Even staring at the ceiling, she was sure she saw Carter start to look down at her watch yet again, then do a double-take, and stare incredulously at her.

"Wait, magic? Potions?! _Magic schools?!_ What kind of planet are you--?"

"She's playing with you, Sam."

Dawn and Carter both turned their heads to find Janet walking towards them, the heavy door still swinging closed again behind her. The woman nodded a greeting to Sam, then cocked a wry eyebrow at where Dawn lay in the bed.

"So, you're enrolled at Hogwart's? Does Dumbledore know you're skipping classes?"

Dawn offered the woman a sheepish look and a hesitant smile. It sucked that her scheme had been exposed, but at least doctor Fraiser didn't seem angry. 

It was _so_ weird that here in this place where she'd been so afraid she would be experimented on and tortured to death by evil doctors, it was the medical people who were being the nicest to her.

Carter, meanwhile, was looking harried, and more than a little lost.

"Janet, what are the two of you talking about? Has she already told you something about the planet she's from?"

"Harry Potter," The woman told her absently, as she gave the medical monitors by the bed a quick once-over, then she looked up and smiled. "I told you that Cassandra loved those, remember? But the only thing you ever read to her are those Carl Sagan books on cosmology and critical thinking."

Carter made a little sound as she made the connection, and shot Dawn a look of disappointment, but surprisingly she didn't look especially angry either, just frustrated.

_I should have been sneakier with what I was telling her,_ Dawn told herself ruefully. _I didn't know for sure if they have Harry Potter books here; at least Carter spends all her time being super-science-army-girl instead of reading books about wizards. I could have kept her going for another five or ten minutes if doctor Fraiser hadn't come back._

Speaking of which, the doctor was examining the various clean dressings her assistants had applied to her wounds. When was finished she smiled down and very gently touched the bruising around Dawn's eyes and along her jaw.

"Are you feeling any better? I know these hurt, and there's probably still a headache? You have a concussion, but it isn't a bad one. The pain from that should fade within the next few hours at most." 

Dawn gave a tiny nod, and surprised herself by not whining for more pain shots, or at least some Tylenol or something to make the pounding ache in her head go away _now_.

"It's okay," She said instead, and lay quietly as the woman gave Carter a very serious sort of look.

"Daniel will be here in a minute, he said he needed to get something from his office." The tone of her voice made it plain that there was more to it than that, and the other woman noticed too.

"Something's up?"

"Maybourne's here."

Carter shot a look at the door, which stayed closed, and up at the windows of the viewing room, which was currently empty. 

" _Here_ here? Already?"

Doctor Fraiser shook her head, though the worry was still plain on her face.

"Still upstairs, last I heard, but we don't have much time."

That made Carter look at her watch, and she winced.

"That's two ways we're short on time," She muttered to herself.

Dawn, following along from where she lay, asked the obvious question:

"Who's Maybourne?"

Both of the women looked uncomfortable. Eventually, Carter spoke.

"Maybourne is... a colonel. In the Air Force. Sort of." 

There was obviously more to it that that, but the blonde woman looked across to doctor Fraiser.

"What's general Hammond going to do?"

"He said he was going to call--" She paused, glanced at Dawn, and visibly rephrased what she'd been about to say. "--All the way to the top, to try and plead our case. I had to tell him that I don't have a good medical option." She looked over at the jumble of electronic boxes that were still blinking and beeping quietly to themselves over on their cart, then back to Carter. "How about you? Any luck?"

Carter grimaced, and shook her head.

"No, nothing. Even if I hadn't been distracted..." A quick, disapproving look at Dawn made her duck her head down into her blanket, just a little. "...I still don't think I have a realistic chance of finding something we can use to defuse the situation. If I could, then maybe we could convince everyone that there isn't a threat. As it stands now, though, I don't know how we do that."

They were speaking in code, like she was a child they could talk over by spelling out words, but it sounded a lot like Dawn's earlier thoughts might well be true.

"Are you in trouble with your bosses for keeping me here?" She couldn't help the excitement that raised her voice and made her struggle with her sore body until she was sitting upright in the bed. "Is Maybourne the one who's going to make you let me go?!"

Doctor Fraiser put a hand on Dawn's back as she fought to keep her balance; the room had gotten slightly fuzzy and wobbly again, just for a few seconds after she'd sat up. Carter, for her part, gave Dawn a stern look, and folded her arms across her chest before answering.

"It's actually kind of the opposite of that. Maybourne is the one in charge of the people who have been chasing you. His team are probably the ones who attacked you today." Her gaze met Dawn's with a sort of merciless candor. 

"I hate to say this, because I don't want to scare you for no reason, but you need to understand. We don't know for sure, because the NID is so secretive, but it's very likely that all of the awful things you were afraid we would do to you... he and his people _will_ do. And nothing you say to them will change their minds because they're absolutely certain that it's the right thing to do, for this country and for this world."

Dawn felt her fingers and toes going numb, and the edges of the room were somehow dimming, though when she looked directly at anything in particular it seemed clear and bright, almost abnormally so.

_I was wrong. No, not even that, I was_ way, way _wrong. These are the nice ones, and the scary bad ones are coming for me. They know where I am, and they're almost here and I can't get away, and they're going to take me apart while I'm still alive to see how I work only they don't have magic here so they'll be looking for computer chips and batteries or some extra mutant liver or something that lets me do things and when they don't find it they'll keep cutting and looking till there's nothing left of me at all, just itty bitty bits of Dawnie in little piles of meat and blood and ooze on a table, with maybe some green sparkles of Key glowyness coming from all of it that they still won't be able to understand--_

"Dawn!"

Doctor Fraiser had hold of both her shoulders, and had shaken her just enough to get her attention. She realized she was breathing in and out as fast as she could; little rapidfire pants that still somehow failed to give her enough air because she felt like she was smothering, with the edges of the room getting darker with every second.

Carter came to stand on the other side from doctor Fraiser, and she put one hand on Dawn's back, and another on her stomach, a light, reassuring pressure.

"Slow down," She said, in a calm and steady voice. "You're hyperventilating; slow down, there's plenty of air, all you have to do is take your time."

It took her a couple of tries, but Dawn was eventually able to start taking deeper, slower breaths, and the room began to look and feel normal again. She hated to admit it, but just the fact that the two of them there and trying to help her, the soldier and the doctor, made it easier for her to at least pretend for a moment that she was okay, that there was no reason to panic.

Even though there absolutely was.

Doctor Fraiser had been watching her face closely, and now she nodded and relaxed a little.

"That's better. Try and stay calm; I can't give you any kind of sedative right now, even if you need it." She looked across at Carter. "Is there anything we can do about Maybourne? Anything at all?"

The other woman gave tiny, helpless shrug.

"Not that I can think of; it's all up to general Hammond and colonel O'Neill, now." She sighed, and frowned over at her gear on the cart, and then turned back to Dawn with an ironic little smile. "You were telling me about the Harry Potter books before; why don't you tell me more about them?"

Dawn blinked, her chest still rising and falling a bit faster than normal, and looked back at her in confusion.

"What? Now?"

Carter's smile widened, like she was enjoying seeing Dawn be the one who was completely confused.

"Sure, why not? We have a little time. Which are your favorites in the series? Aren't there seven of them?"

She nodded hesitantly, and with both women looking at her expectantly, she shifted position a little, half-curling her legs up under her as she sat with the blanket drawn around her.

"I think I like the first one best; the last two or three get really complicated and dark. There's interesting stuff in those, but they're not fun to read, because so many bad things are happening to people."

Doctor Fraiser nodded. 

"Cassie and I are reading them together, and she's noticed that things get darker."

Dawn looked down at her hand, and ticked off one finger for the first book.

"So the first one is my most favorite: 'Harry Potter and the Pureblood Princess'. After that, I guess the next best would be--"

"Wait."

Dawn looked up, and saw that doctor Fraiser had the oddest look on her face.

"Huh?"

The woman glanced at Carter, then back at her.

" _What_ was the name of the book?"

Dawn realized what she'd said, and why it had been confusing.

"Oh, yeah; it was only called 'Harry Potter and the Pureblood Princess' in the British version. Over here they changed the name; it's the same story, only some things happened that scared the book company. I remember the national version of MOO was doing protest marches because of the 'kids with magical powers' thing--and my mom went through this phase where she was writing letters to congresspeople about it every day--but I think the real reason was that Disney threatened to sue, since they pretty much own anything that even mentions a princess. So here in America they called it 'Harry Potter and the High-Born Daughter'. Back home I had first editions of both versions, 'cause Giles loved giving books as presents, and he was happy that I liked reading _something_ , even if they weren't the kind of--"

She was cut off by both women speaking at once.

"I know for a fact that none of the books was ever called--"

"Back _home?_ You're saying that you had these books on an alien--"

They both stopped, and looked at each other, and then turned back to where she was sitting, wondering why they seemed so interested in the _name_ of a book.

Doctor Fraiser spoke first.

"I think we've been working from a false assumption."

Carter made a little tilt-nod gesture with her head that seemed to be some sort of agreement, then focused on her in her bed, leaned a little closer, and very carefully enunciated a single question: 

"Dawn.... Where, _exactly_ , are you from?"

* * * * *

When Daniel finally made it down to where they were holding the girl, he trotted up to the guards at the door, nodded at them in passing, awkwardly shifted the bundle he was carrying so that he could push it open, and then stepped inside... only to find Sam and Janet throwing questions at Dawn in such quick succession that there was hardly an instant's pause between them.

"So all this time we've been thinking you were from another star system, and instead you came here from an alternate version of _California?_ "

"And there are Harry Potter books there, except in those Harry gets along just fine with Draco, but never makes friends with Ron or Hermione at all?"

"The laws of physics are actually different? There's magic; real, provable, replicable instances of _magic_?"

"The series is written so that it's Gryffindor who are the intolerant bullies, and the Pureblood houses are noble and good?"

"You said there are monsters on Earth; _literal_ fantasy-style monsters, including werewolves, zombies, and _vampires_?"

"Harry gets sorted into Slytherin, and he's _happy about it_?!"

Dawn was sitting in the middle of her bed in a hospital gown and wrapped in a blanket, her black eyes, bruises, and tangled hair making her look like an earthquake survivor who had only recently been pulled from the rubble. Looking back and forth, from one woman to the other and then back again, she gamely tried to keep up with their questions.

"Yes, California; I shouldn't have gone back there, since it was close enough for Willow to track me, I guess, but I'd missed Los Angeles. I thought I could get away with a few days of partying before I went back to Europe."

She turned to Janet.

"Sure, Harry and Draco get along great, and later on they both fall in love with the girl they meet that first day at King's Cross station--she's the Pureblood Princess--but they stay friends all the way through the end of the series, because she doesn't pick one over the other; she picks them both."

As he walked closer, Daniel had a great view of the shocked look on Janet's face at hearing _that_. Dawn, however, had turned to speak to Sam.

"Magic is around, only it isn't super powerful or reliable unless you're really good at it, or if you're in a place with something weird about it, like a nexus of ley lines, or Stonehenge, or the hellmouth in Sunnydale."

Back to Janet again, who was silently mouthing something along the lines of 'she picks them both'.

"Gryffindor are sort of like the worst kind of asshole jocks you see in school; I think J.K. Rowling got bullied really bad in high school or something, is why she wrote them that way. After Harry Potter got so popular with everyone, tons of kids didn't want to watch or play school sports any more, because that's a Gryffindor thing, and Gryffindor is completely awful. Everyone got a lot more interested in reading instead; and doing arts and crafts, and learning to play music and dress up fancy and go to dances--House Slytherin is obsessed with art and history and poetry and culture in the books, after all, and they're totally the heroes of the series, so there's this whole generation of kids growing up now who want to be more like them."

"And the Pureblood houses in the books aren't all nice, but the best of them are, especially house Malfoy; Draco's mom is one of my most favorite characters in any story _ever_!"

By this point, Janet's eyes were wide and very bewildered, though Dawn didn't seem to notice as she looked back to Sam.

"Vampires are real, even if most people there don't know it. My very best friend in the whole world is a vampire." She looked pensive then, and glanced down at the blanket pooled around her on the bed. "I haven't seen him for a long time, though; an evil witch banished him."

Since this conversation showed no signs of winding down anytime soon, Daniel moved to stand at the foot of the bed, waving one hand in greeting--which nearly made him drop the folding tripod had tucked beneath that arm.

"Hi guys; sorry it took me so long, but I had to find a fresh battery pack for my--"

Sam interrupted him.

"Daniel! It turns out she isn't from another planet at all; she's from Earth! Another _version_ of Earth, like you encountered when you went through your mirror, only this one seems to be so far 'distant' from ours that there are incredible, fundamental differences, though it still comes close to matching us in some specific ways."

She looked at him expectantly, and he gave her a distracted nod as he set down the tripod and adjusted the mechanism that allowed the legs unfold and then lock into place.

"Yes, that makes sense. Her speech patterns and mode of dress pointed to a very close match for modern American or western European culture." He saw that she looked a little deflated at his lack of surprise and excitement at her news. "I thought it might be something like that the very first time we saw her in the Gate room; it's not like we didn't know people can move between alternate realities."

He looked at the girl in question, and Dawn gave him a small, hesitant smile.

"I don't know about any mirror, but there was, um, an accident. And I sort of fell _between_ places, and then I was here. In front of your Ring-thing." 

Daniel stopped short in what he was doing and regarded her, his brow furrowing.

"Could you go _back_ between places? Go back to your own world, where you'll be safe, if we put you in front of the Stargate?"

Sam looked hopefully at the girl.

"That _would_ solve a lot of problems, if you could."

Dawn hung her head.

"No, I don't think so. It wasn't just an accident; someone was attacking me, someone super-powerful, and her magic was squishing me down so much inside that the K--" She stopped, and with a furtive, frightened look rephrased whatever it was she'd been about to say. "So much that I got pushed out of the universe somehow--I don't know how, exactly--and then I fell and fell until I came out through your donut-ring-gate-thingy."

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking miserable and ashamed. "Maybe I should have told all of you that, that first night I got here, but everybody was yelling at me, and chasing me, and pointing _guns_."

She shot a quick, furtive glare across the room to one of the SF airmen who were standing guard, and Daniel followed her gaze to find the short blonde sergeant there returning the look with one of stony indifference.

"Ah. Well, that's all water under the bridge, I guess. The important thing is to try and do something about what's happening now."

Janet looked at him curiously.

"What _can_ we do? Doesn't Maybourne have the support of the Joint Chiefs?"

Samantha nodded grimly.

"And he's still smarting from that time we got the Tollan away from him. I doubt anything is going to stop him this time except a direct order from the President."

Daniel happened to agree on all points, but time was short, so he handed Dawn a wadded-up bundle of cloth.

"Here, I thought you might want something besides a hospital gown. This is from my alma mater; sorry, I couldn't find anything else in my office for you."

She frowned down at the sweatshirt, shrugged, then slipped the blanket off her shoulders and pulled the flimsy hospital drape up and over her head with a complete lack of modesty, wincing in pain as the movement pulled at her injuries.

Turning hastily away, Daniel ignored the momentary smile of bemusement from Janet at his discomfort. In answer to Sam's earlier comment, he lifted his best digital video camera out of the battered case he'd set on the floor by the bed.

"You're right; the only thing that will keep Dawn away from Maybourne--and even if she gives him the slip today you can bet it won't be long before he tracks her down again and captures her--is if the president orders him to stand down. General Hammond is on the phone right now trying to make that happen, but there might be a way for us to help."

He locked the camera down onto the tripod, powered it on, checked the battery and settings, and then very cautiously turned his head just far enough to look at Dawn from the corner of his eye. Seeing that she was decent, he turned the rest of the way around.

The maroon sweatshirt was almost a full size too big for Daniel, so Dawn was left practically swimming in it, the gray logo of the University of Chicago partially hidden in the loose folds. She was looking mournfully at the heavy, tangled masses of hair that spilled down to the bed all around her, trying to comb it back to some semblance of order with her fingers.

He found himself nodding in satisfaction at the image she presented.

"That might work." He adjusted the camera angle slightly as she looked at him uncertainly. Sam and Janet seemed just as confused, so he took a quick moment to explain.

"I'm going to record her giving her testimony, her account of what happened."'

Samantha's look of doubt deepened, and she shook her head slowly.

"I don't see how that will help, Daniel. They've already convinced themselves she's a threat, and her actions have only given them more reason to believe that's true. Nothing she says could possibly change their minds at this point."

Daniel took a moment to move one of Samantha's instruments--some kind of antenna or sensor rod in a little stand--out of his way.

"That would be true if decisions were only ever made in a rational way, Sam, except human beings don't operate that way, not all of the time. As often as not, emotion overrules reason, even when the person should know better. And we have access to an emotion we can use for our side of this argument: Sympathy."

He gestured at Dawn, and both Sam and Janet turned to look.

Sitting upright in her bed, bruised and disheveled and pale, without jewelry or makeup, and half-swallowed by the oversized sweatshirt, the girl looked absurdly young, and heartbreakingly fragile. 

Looking back at them with those striking, unforgettable eyes, Dawn tugged anxiously at her hair and shifted uneasily.

"I'm getting flashbacks to a guy I met in Strasbourg last year," She murmured, glancing down at the oversized shirt she was wearing. "He had a bed and a video camera, too, and kept promising me that he'd _never_ show the recording to anyone else." Her fingers drew random shapes on the smoothness of the bedsheet as she stared off into nothing with a tiny, satisfied smile. "His safe turned out to have _sooo_ many interesting things in it besides just his money. I'll bet he still has nightmares about that stuff maybe showing up on the news some day."

Pretending she hadn't overheard that, Sam looked at him wonderingly.

"Wow, Daniel; outright emotional manipulation? That's more deviousness than I would have expected from you."

He shrugged, and checked the image on the little LCD screen on the side of the camera.

"Well, if you see enough oil companies and their pet politicians bulldoze important historical sites, or slash and burn a path for a pipeline through a tribe's sacred forest, you learn how to fight back. A dozen rational objections and negative environmental impact studies can be ignored completely, if there's enough money on the line, but I've seen drilling permits worth half a billion dollars get canceled when the right local person got put in front of the news cameras to tell their story."

Janet leaned in and whispered some words of encouragement to Dawn, and whatever it was she said, it made the girl giggle softly and shake her head while staring determinedly down at her sweatshirt. Stepping back, she shot Daniel a look of concern.

"I suppose this is worth trying, since we don't have anything else, but do we really have time to record anything before Maybourne gets down here?"

Daniel shrugged.

"When I was coming back from my office earlier, I saw Jack and Siler heading for the power vault. So I _think_ we should--

* * * * *

The Air Force major wasn't hiding his anger very well, not that Maybourne especially cared. The orders that had allowed the colonel and his heavily-armed force into the Cheyenne Mountain complex came from the _very_ highest authorities, and left absolutely no room for argument. That being the case, the usual protocols had been set aside, and the duty officer had been given no choice but to personally escort the NID personnel past the NORAD security checkpoints, into the very heart of the installation, and ultimately through the tunnels to the access point for the SGC far below.

When they reached the final chamber, with its ubiquitous concrete walls and row of armored elevator doors--doors whose very existence was a highly-classified secret--Maybourne brushed past the SF personnel stationed there and jammed a thumb into the call button. The center-most set of doors obediently slid open, and he took up a position inside the oversized elevator, waiting impatiently as half of his sixteen-man team followed him in, with the other half moving with efficient speed into one of the other lifts. Hitting the button for the lowest level of the SGC, which housed both the Gate room and the medical section, he waited for the doors to close....

...And waited... and waited....

With a snarl he jabbed at the control panel again, only to have the entire thing go dark, with only the red emergency lighting of the elevator itself showing any signs of life. 

Maybourne shouldered past his men, back out into security checkpoint. One glance showed the other eight members of his team exiting a likewise inoperative elevator, and he turned his glare to the major.

"If you or your people are playing games with me right now, you're going to be spending the next two decades locked away in a _very_ unpleasant military prison."

The other man was already looking at a computer console, and shaking his head as he typed in a query, then read the results.

"This isn't happening on our end, colonel," He said, straightening and giving the man a sober look. "There's some kind of feedback coming from the lower complex; the power isn't out, it's amped up too high for the system to handle, so the elevator system has shut itself down to prevent an overload."

Maybourne moved quickly to take his own look at the display. Past experience had taught him not to trust anyone in Cheyenne Mountain any further than he could spit... and usually not even that far. In this case, however, the man was telling the truth.

Growling profanities under his breath, he keyed for a readout on the secondary bank of elevators, located some distance away in a room identical to this one. They too, showed as being locked out by the automatics. He could, of course, have the safeties overridden, but that would almost certainly result in the electrical system for the elevators frying itself in short order, potentially stranding him and his men in lift shafts that were each six hundred feet high.

When he looked up at the watch officer, he caught just a glimpse of a faint, satisfied smile before the man's expression smoothed into neutral blankness. With an utterly respectful show of politeness, the man gestured towards a tunnel that led off to the first in a series of armored sliding doors. 

"The nearest emergency stairs down to the SGC are through there, sir. Would you like me to show you, or do you know the way?"

* * * * *

The big, noisy room smelled even more strongly of ozone than usual, and over in an out-of-the-way nook, O'Neill and Siler were surveying their handiwork. One of the massive electrical boxes had been opened, and the heavy-duty wiring within had been altered in a minor but significant way. The angry buzzing that filled the air wasn't typical for the setup, just as the faint wisps of smoke that rose from the crackling connections would usually have been cause for alarm.

Despite all this, Jack was pleased, and he looked at his companion with a tight, appreciative smile.

"Excellent work, Master Sergeant; that's exactly what I was hoping for."

The other man, eying the buzzing, smoldering box warily, acknowledged O'Neill's words with a nod.

"Happy to help, sir. What now?"

"Now?" Jack headed for the open mesh gate that provided access to the maintenance space, gesturing for the other man to follow. "Now we get ourselves elsewhere, hastily, and forget we were ever here." Siler stopped to close and secure the access once more, while O'Neill moved down the tunnel that led towards Hammond's office, picking up his pace slightly as he walked. "And hope that our boss can bring _his_ boss around to our side," He told himself quietly.

* * * * *

"--So I _think_ we should have just enough time," Daniel said. "Assuming we get started right now." He looked at Dawn. "All right. We need you to help us convince some very serious people that you're not any kind of threat to them or anyone else. Can you do that?"

The girl seemed far from certain, fidgeting on her bed and looking to Sam and Janet for support.

"You'll do fine," Doctor Fraiser told her. "Just be honest." Dawn nodded, and turned to face Daniel.

"Okay. What should I talk about?"

Samantha looked from her to the camera, then to Daniel.

"How about whatever this 'accident' was that brought her here? If we show that it was a mistake and not any kind of deliberate attack or attempt to infiltrate the SGC, that should show that everything that happened after was just a series of misunderstandings, right?"

He nodded slowly, but without real conviction.

"You're thinking logically again, Sam," He smiled faintly at her, then paused and shook his head. "No, the best shot we have is to make this personal; show them that they're dealing with a girl, not a monster." He scrutinized Dawn carefully, and winced a little inside as he noted again how her bruises showed up so starkly against her pale skin....

"The president has a daughter, doesn't he?" He asked suddenly. 

Sam looked blank, but Janet nodded.

"He has two, one in her teens and one around nine."

Daniel's mouth compressed into a grimly satisfied line.

"Then that's it." Pressing the 'record' button on the camera, he looked the battered girl in the eyes.

"Dawn, tell us about what happened to you earlier today; tell us how you got hurt."

She swallowed visibly, her wide eyes looking into the camera lens, then away, and slowly she began to speak.

"I... I had, um, gone to this nightclub. Those other army guys had almost caught me earlier, with this electric trap thing. I barely got away, and it really scared me, and I didn't want to be by myself all night, so I got dressed up and went somewhere crowded...."

She trailed off, staring into space, and Daniel gave her a little 'go on' gesture with his hand.

"Tell us what happened then."

Dawn took a breath, then let it out slowly.

"Well, I wandered around the club for a while, only I didn't really feel like dancing. So I went upstairs to this roof terrace thing they have there--and it's really nice, too--and then I...."

* * * * *

Chapter 11 is in the works, but has been delayed slightly. New ETA is November 12th (2016).

 

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